


C'est La Vie

by LunaKat



Series: C'est La Vie-verse [1]
Category: Pocket Monsters | Pokemon (Main Video Game Series), Pocket Monsters | Pokemon - All Media Types, Pocket Monsters: X & Y | Pokemon X & Y Versions
Genre: Also lots of character development, Death 'cause it's a Nuzlocke, F/F, F/M, I put like four years worth of planning into this, Lots of old myths and legends, M/M, Nuzlocke Challenge, Supernatural - Freeform, Swearing, Xenophobia, lgbtq+, lots of worldbuilding, other dark and gritty stuff, some other languages and cultural stuff because the MC is from Kanto, this isn't for kids
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-02
Updated: 2018-10-27
Packaged: 2018-11-22 09:21:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 24
Words: 198,355
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11377254
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LunaKat/pseuds/LunaKat
Summary: "Never hesitate, never forget", that is the motto of a Kantonian Trainer. To always keep moving forward, to pursue your dream no matter the cost, no matter the price, no matter the consequences. But can such ideals find a place in Kalos, the region of birth and death, of beauty and war, of a future ruled by the distant past? One such Trainer will find herself asking the same questions as she grapples with legends, villains, and secrets that were better left buried.





	1. Prologue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rules:  
> 1\. Fainting equals death.
> 
> 2\. Catch the first encounter of each new area.  
> *Gift Pokemon count as an encounter.  
> *Fainting Clause. One chance.  
> *Shiny Clause.
> 
> 3\. Nickname all captures.
> 
> 4\. Healing items, repels, and Escape Ropes cannot be bought, but used if obtained.
> 
> 5\. No Revives.
> 
> 6\. No vitamins, in-battle items like X-Attack or Dire Hit, or turning on the Exp Share. Must rely on good ol' fashioned level grinding.  
> *"EV Grinding", or Super training, is allowed, as a form of grinding
> 
> 7\. No teaching your team TMs. Must rely on natural learn-set.  
> *HMs can still be taught because of navigation necessity
> 
> 8\. If a Pokemon experiences three near-deaths, it must be retired. Near-death is classified as being left with 1-5 HP remaining after the end of a battle.  
> *The only exception is a Pokemon with the ability Swarm, Blaze, Torrent, or Overgrow, because their ability boosts their power when they hit red. They must be retired after four near-deaths.
> 
> 9\. Once a Gym is entered, there is no leaving until the Gym Leader and all Gym Trainer are defeated. No potions allowed against the Gym Leader.
> 
> 10\. Yveltal cannot be used outside of Team Flare's HQ.

**Arc 1: Taciturn**  
(adjective)

  * (of a person) reserved or uncommunicative in speech; saying little.



 

  
  
_When I was little, Maman told me all sorts of stories from her homeland. One of them goes like this:_  
  
_Kalos is known for the great, violent war that ravaged it in the Age of Myth, the one that was fought not for freedom, or independence, or justice, but simply out of human selfishness. It killed millions, dyed the land black with innocent blood. Legend has it that you could hear the Grim Reaper laughing, delighting in how the ranks of his domain swelled._  
  
_Things finally came to a head when a man lost his most beloved friend. He grieved so deep that he planted a seed that grew into a crystal flower, and he filled it to the brim with all his rage, his pain, and his disgust with the war that had claimed his friend—and so when it bloomed, the armies had no choice but to cease fighting._  
  
_The Grim Reaper, though, had loved the carnage too much, and so he slunk into the mortal realm and gifted humanity with magic—a terrible, divine magic, horrific and twisted and damning, and it resulted in the broken world we live in today._

* * *

"Celestine!"  
  
A tall girl with a mane of icy black hair that reached her knees and ivory skin and fierce blue eyes glanced up. She had been leaning against the wall, her arms and legs crossed, but she uncrossed them when her companion came into view. One look at the other girl’s face, though, and all Celestine Lavieaux could think was,  _oh boy, here it comes_. You know what they say, how you can't have an explosion without expecting fallout.  
  
So brace yourself, girls and boys, it's about to get ugly.  
  
"Was that really necessary!?" Shauna snapped as soon as she was close enough. Celestine had been waiting for her to catch up—not for the fallout she knew was coming. Frankly, if Celestine could, she would have left to avoid it altogether, but she had never been inside this building before and she needed someone—Shauna—to show her out.  
  
It might sound cruel. In fact, it most definitely did sound cruel to think in that fashion, but Celestine and Shauna were not friends. Not really. You couldn't really be "friends" after knowing someone for only a few days, a week tops, now could you? Of the three weeks that Celestine had been in Kalos, she had spent the other two staying with Sycomore-Hakase at his labs in Lumiose. Celestine did not know that man personally and had only ever heard of him through his work, but he was apparently an old friend of her mother, so he had been willing to give her temporary lodging as a favor to her mother. His last favor, no doubt. Celestine hadn't been willing to push it too far.  
  
After about two weeks, she had begun to feel as though she was overstaying her welcome. Not to mention that the aides and a few of Hakase's acquaintances were beginning to get suspicious. After all, why would a world-class, albeit eccentric mind, like Augustine Sycomore retain a sullen seventeen-year-old girl with bladed eyes and an acid tongue? Celestine had begun to grow weary of the whispered speculations and was ready to set out. Unfortunately, her licence request had yet to be pushed through, and without a licence, she couldn't obtain a single Pokemon, nor could she technically leave the city by Trainer Route. Not legally.  
  
Once again, Hakase had come to her rescue. Apparently, years ago, he had been generous enough to give a girl, fresh off the boat from Hoenn, a rather rare starter known as a Chespin. He'd made it clear, at the time, that the gift didn't come without strings attached, and that one day he would come back to collect.  
  
And so he had.  
  
The Gabena family was willing to abide a guest in their house for a few days, especially one that was a friend of the esteemed Professor. Of course, none of them had been expecting someone like Celestine, who avoided the outdoors like the plague and slept in till noon, barred herself from human contact, and was overall very moody. They indulged, nonetheless, and were patient enough to not ask questions, like how she knew Hakase or why she had come to Kalos. It was tolerable.  
  
Or it would have been, if the Gabena's daughter Shauna, the owner of the Chespin she had named Mint, didn't constantly try to  _bond_  with Celestine. The girl was pushy and chipper to the point of grating on Celestine's nerves on certain days. Today, Shauna had made a rather grand attempt that involved dragging Celestine kicking and screaming to Shauna's high school—academy, prep school, whatever the hell this was—where some of her friends were taking summer courses. For all Celestine's struggling, Shauna's grip was iron and her body was strong, which was startling for a girl that was only five-foot-three. It was even more embarrassing for Celestine, who was almost six feet, to be dragged around like a rag doll.  
  
Now, to fully understand the situation, one must understand that Kalosian secondary schools offered condensed courses over the summer for those who wanted to graduate early, brush up on some skills or dip their toe into the water without making any commitments, or to make up for any lost credits during the regular school year because of too-low grades. Two of the three people in Shauna's friend group were attending summer school there, and the group got together everyday at lunch. Shauna's ultimate plan, it seemed, was to thrust Celestine head-first into social interaction, introvert or no.  
  
Surprisingly, it had worked out alright, at first. While initially on edge, Shauna had a taste in friends who were patient with socially withdrawn people. After fifteen minutes, a semi-easy flow of conversation had been established between the four. And it was almost perfect, but there should have been five, not four. One of Shauna's friends had been MIA.  
  
Shauna had gone inside to search for said friend, only to return five minutes later, incensed, to grab Celestine by the wrist, dragging her through the polished white walls of this preppy prep school, and deposit her in front of a strange boy while demanding that she kick his ass in a Pokemon battle.  
  
Celestine had been bewildered, rightfully so. She didn't know what had happened between the two—an argument gone particularly sour was her best guess—or how Shauna knew anything about her battling prowess, and no way was she going to battle someone she had no grievance with herself. She was not an attack dog, for the Sacred Birds' sake.  
  
Then the arrogant little prick openly chastised Shauna, and Shauna had looked absolutely frustrated to the point of tears. And Celestine had decided that, screw it, he was going down.  
  
It went sour from there, and one could mostly argue that it was a clash of cultures that had sparked it. See, Celestine had grown up in Kanto, which was known for its rigid and severe culture, as well as its ferocious zeal about the art of battle. It was a view that was not unique in the Old Continent—the eastern continent that was home of conjoined twin regions Kanto and Johto, and their boreal sister region Sinnoh—but it was particularly strong in Kanto. And in Kanto, if one did not announce their intent to keep things friendly and lighthearted, then both battlers defaulted to a serious, all-or-nothing battle. These "Reaper Battles", named for their to-the-death nature, were seen as duels of honor.  
  
In the New Continent—western, the amalgamation of Kalos to the northwest, Unova to the south, and conjoined by a stretch of land without a League to give it a proper name—views were the opposite. The sanctity of life was valued above competitivity or a Trainer's honor, so unless a Trainer was feeling particularly competitive or bloodthirsty and announced their desire to engage in a Reaper Battle, then the battle was kept non-lethal. Besides, Reaper Battles were viewed as abhorrent—a view that would later reach Hoenn and Alola down in the south—because the only way it ended was if a Trainer lost their entire team or forfeited mercy money in exchange for their Pokemon's lives.  
  
Celestine and Shauna had, in fact, discussed this once before, so she had known that when Celestine's borrowed Pokemon had shot her opponent's Flying-Type right out of the sky with all the intent to kill, it wasn't out of cruelty, just social expectation.  
  
Her opponent had not.  
  
There had been a fight. A huge one. The boy had gone after Celestine, calling her a Berserker and a brutalist. Celestine had in turn called her opponent naive, inexperienced, and had coldly suggested that he stop being a Trainer, if he couldn't stomach violence. That had been the end of it, too, because Celestine had stormed out immediately after, taking the last word with her.  
  
Now, she eyed Shauna with a frown. "Define 'necessary'."  
  
Shauna huffed and tried to glare up, but it was difficult, given the enormous gap in their height—nearly nine inches. It was also a bit of a ridiculous sight, as Shauna was dressed in pink and frills and sequences, her mocha hair pulled back from her make-up accented caramel face and her minty eyes narrowed, and it made her look decidedly less threatening. Celestine couldn't help but think she looked like a pissed-off hamster.  
  
Anyone looking their way would have doubtlessly thought to themselves,  _What an odd pair._  
  
"You  _know_  what I mean," Shauna said. "That wasn't a Reaper Battle. You didn't have to go all-out like that."  
  
"He didn't  _say_  it wasn't a Reaper."  
  
"He didn't  _need_  to. We don't  _need_  to in Kalos."  
  
"Well good for  _Kalos_ ," Celestine retorted, her voice dripping with sarcasm.  
  
Shauna sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose. She knew that Kantonians in particular were highly passionate about battling principles, almost obsessive. And it made sense, given that Kanto was the wellspring, the  _origin_ , of the League system, which almost every region had since adopted. And Kanto was proud of that. Battling had become the cornerstone of their culture. It was the region's lifeblood, heart, and soul.  
  
"It's an unspoken rule," Shauna tried to explain patiently, "that you don't try to kill the other person's Pokemon unless they say they're betting their lives. I know it's different in Kanto. It was different in Hoenn, too. Like, in Hoenn, you had to, like, say if it was either Reaper or Non. In Kanto, it's always Reaper unless you say otherwise, right? But in Kalos, it's always Non unless you say otherwise. It takes adjusting, but no one comes out and says they don't want to Reap here. They just assume you won't."  
  
Celestine threw her arms up, and for her the first time in the conversation, her composure was gone. "How am I supposed to assume that without clarification?"  
  
"To be fair, I don't think that really crosses anyone's minds," Shauna pointed out. "I mean, other than your accent, you don't  _look_  foreign, so no one can really tell. And you don't explain your culture to someone who looks like they grew up in the same region as you. That'd just be weird.  _Plus_ , cultural differences and stuff aren't exactly what you think about before a battle."  
  
Celestine raked a hand through her bangs. "Well it  _should_."  
  
Shauna began to chew her lip, saying nothing. She had that look in her eye like she wanted to say something, but was too hesitant to say it out loud. Celestine only recognized it because it was the  _exact_  opposite of the bold glow Shauna usually radiated.  
  
"Okay, what?"  
  
"...if you'd known it was Non, would you have still...?"  
  
Celestine blinked, stunned. Did Shauna really have such a negative opinion of her? "Of  _course_  not."  
  
Shauna laughed in relief. "Yeah. I thought so."  
  
Celestine frowned. "Then why did you ask?"  
  
"I dunno. You were just, kinda..."  
  
"Brutal?" Celestine offered.  
  
Shauna seemed a bit unnerved by how brazenly unapologetic the taller girl was. "Little bit."  
  
"Well, I thought we were both going all out," Celestine said. "If he had fought back more, his bird might be in better condition. That fact that it didn't is what got it so badly injured."  
  
"Fletchinder," Shauna corrected.  
  
"Gesundheit."  
  
"No, the bird. It's called---" Shauna broke off with a laugh. "Never mind. But, uh, you should probably go back and apologize, yeah?"  
  
Celestine glanced back at the direction she and Shauna had come from, where the doors to the gymnasium awaited, still and silent and solemn gray in contrast to the white of the hallways. She sighed. "Probably. Okay, wish me luck."  
  
"You don't need luck," Shauna told Celestine cheerily as she headed off. "Just make him see that you're a good person deep down."  
  
Celestine hesitated briefly, her whole body seizing up as if she had been struck, but she was moving again before Shauna could ask what was wrong. She slipped through the door soon after with another word.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone! My name is LunaKat and I'm thrilled to present my Nuzlocke story, "C'est La Vie". This is my very first Nuzlocke, so I hope you all enjoy it, and I hope you'll stick around to follow it.
> 
> Now, before I move on, I'm just going to address a few anticipated questions.
> 
> Yes, Celestine is Kantonese (from Kanto). No, her name doesn't sound Japanese. There's a reason for that. Yes, there is going to be some Japanese cultural and linguistic references interwoven (i.e. Celestine referring to Sycomore as "Hakase", which is what the Professors are called in Japan). This information will mostly be gathered from various internet sources, Google translate, and anime. If anyone thinks I got something wrong, feel free to correct me.
> 
> No, I didn't spell "Sycomore" wrong. Okay, well, technically I did, but "sycomore" is the French spelling and Kalos is based of France, so there.
> 
> This will not be a simple retelling of Pokemon Y. In fact, the amount of deviance will be astonishing. If you're interested, keep reading. If not, don't flame.
> 
> Okay, the prologue... Other than the ending, I'm proud of it. I didn't want to use this scene, necessarily, for the prologue, but it's too important plot wise (and character development wise) to scrap and it felt wrong to include this in the first chapter. Felt too much like a delay. So... prologue it is.
> 
> I've put a lot of time and effort into this fic. I first posted it on the Nuz forums with some positive feedback, so I'm putting up here to see what others outside the Nuzlocke community think. This first couple chapters are not my proudest work, but it gets much better around chapter three. I sincerely hope you enjoy it.
> 
> Yours truly,  
> Luna


	2. Chapter 1: Entamer

**Entamer**  
(verb)

  * French for "start", "begin", "lead", or 'embark"



   


" _It's **too late**  to make it right  
I  **probably wouldn't**  if I could  
'Cause I'm  **mad as hell**  
Can't bring myself to do what it is you think I should"_  
—"Not Ready To Make Nice", Dixie Chicks  


  
  
  
_Two days later_  
  
Shauna poked her head in through the doorway. "Celie, she's here!"  
  
Celestine wrinkled her nose at the nickname ("Celie", so juvenile, you would have never guessed Shauna was seventeen and not twelve), but responded in a grunted "kay be down soon". Shauna hesitated for a fraction of a second before she slipped out the door.  
  
After she left, Celestine took the time to do up the last button on my shirt and stole a glance from the nearby mirror. An adolescent girl—a young woman, really—stared back, with a cape-like mane of icy black hair, an austere, alabaster face, an unsmiling mouth, and cerulean eyes like jewels. She wore a look of grim determination, like she was about to march up to stronghold and bust down the front door, launch an all-out assault that would leave the floors and walls painted a deliciously moribund shade of red.  
  
_Today is the day_ , Celestine told the girl in the mirror, and the girl nodded.  
  
Hakase's assistant had arrived with her starter in tow and a licence fresh off the printing press, which meant that the minute both were in Celestine's hands, she could begin her Trainer's Journey. All of Kalos was going to unfold before her today, brimming with endless possibilities. The thought was daunting, despite Celestine's seventeen years and her extensive experience in battle, because this was her first Journey. And yeah, okay, "late bloomer" totally applied here, maybe a little too much. She had never experienced the luxury of camping under the stars or trotting along well-worn Routes or wiling away the days in the sole company of a team of adoring Pokemon. It would be a lie to say the thought didn't have her curling her toes in anticipation.  
  
She was quick to tamp the feeling down though. Because Celestine was seventeen and extensively experienced in battle, and not some starry-eyed girl with delusions of grandeur and fame and glory. Journeys were not easy—they were dangerous and everyone knew it. And there were those like Celestine who actually acknowledged it, didn't gloss over the reality of death and injury and PTSD because she thought it wouldn't happen to her. No, she was not one of those people. She knew and acknowledged that a nearly constant fraction of Trainers had their licences nulled, either because they retired or because they were forcibly revoked by the League (for a number of gory reasons she would rather not get into). And that didn't even factor in the death toll. After all, the wild had not earned its name, "the wild", for being hospitable. There's a reason ancient civilizations prospered after building vast cities with impenetrable walls and a fierce army lying in wait behind them.  
  
_Well_ , Celestine thought as she left the Gabena's cozy guest room behind and descended the stairs,  _here we go, Lavieaux._  
  
Voices fluttered up from the kitchen. Excited, anxious. Celestine wasn't the only one setting out today. Shauna and her friend group had, quite coincidentally, chosen today of all days to begin their own Journeys, though Celestine suspected that there was more to the story. Not that she was in any position to judge. They were  _all_  late bloomers.  
  
_Technically not true_ , she chided herself, pausing at the foot of the stairs. She could see the kitchen from here.  _In Kanto, we'd be late bloomers. You can get your licence as early as eleven and then set out a year later. In Kalos—no, the whole New Continent won't even let you apply for a licence until you're sixteen. Even then, you're encouraged to wait until you finish school first. Even in Hoenn, most Trainers set out as sixteen, and in Alola, you can’t take the trial until you're thirteen._  
  
She laughed inwardly at her Old Continent mindset. Here in the New Continent,  _everything_  was topsy-turvy. The Old Continent expected children to grow up too fast, to strive despite their youth for better things, reminding them that their lives were fragile, tentative, and to seize the moment. The New Continent, meanwhile, encouraged children to enjoy their youth, take their time, laze around under the sun, and overall make the most of their lives because there was so much of it. In all honesty, Celestine could see the value in both philosophies, but she had been born in Kanto, had breathed its air and spoke its tongue, so it was only natural that she favored one over the other. After all, it was the same philosophy that had—  
  
Celestine killed that train of thought before it could go much further. No offense, train of thought, but it was time she got out of her head and started moving forward. A journey of a thousand miles begins with a single step, and she had a step to take, so enough procrastinating, let's get moving.  
  
When she poked her head through the doorway, the first thing Celestine saw as Grace-san, Shauna's mother, stood over the stove, making something, judging from the shimmer of heat, the sound of something sizzling, and the smell of something delicious cooking. She was the only adult there, her husband Maurice-san off working for the day, though she didn't entirely look the part. Her face was young, her brown hair done up in a sloppy bun, and her eyes sparkled very much like her daughter's. The expression "young at heart" could not apply more so than to Grace Gabena.  
  
Still, it seemed she had taken it upon herself to chaperon the three teenagers who were standing around the breakfast table. One was Shauna, her trusty Chespin Mint lazing about atop her head of mocha hair, apparently asleep. The other girl Celestine recognized from her time indulging in Hakase's hospitality, and was doubtlessly the aide he'd spoken of over the phone. The girl’s name was Serena Devereux, Celestine believed, and her loose waves were a nice honey-brown shade, which she had pulled back into a low ponytail so that her pretty face was visible, though her bangs and a few locks were loose to give her a rather artsy look. She was younger than Celestine by about a year, with grayish blue eyes that sparkled and a no-nonsense attitude Celestine could admire. Unlike Celestine, smiles came to Serena naturally, her face meant to look more beautiful while laughing rather than scowling. The Kalosian was dressed in a tasteful dress-and-jacket combination, with a beret that brought to mind various caricatures and stereotypes involving Kalos fashion.  
  
The third, though, immediately drew Celestine attention. He was the only boy, easily the tallest there, his face fair and angled, and the flinty grayness of his eyes was visible even from where she stood. His dark fringe—dark brown, not quite black but almost, almost—fell over the left side of his face, and his hair came down to his chin, if not a just a little passed. Kid needed a haircut, Celestine couldn't help but think, even though calling him "kid" wasn't entirely fair, considering that he was a few months older than Celestine, according to Shauna, and they were around the same height. No, this boy with the lean, lithe stature and sharp cheekbones was no more a child than Celestine was—physically, anyway. But last they'd met, she'd accused him of acting like one.  
  
He must have caught movement from his peripheral, because he turned. Once he caught sight of her, his eyes narrowed dangerously. Celestine narrowed her own eyes back.  
  
Calem Lafayette was, in fact, the friend of Shauna's that Celestine had the misfortune of getting on his bad side, all because of some miscommunication. From there, it had only gotten worse, because when she'd gone back to apologize, she was met with venom and ice, and she'd fought back with fire and acid. She'd gone to swallow her pride and had left with the desire to never see him again. She had even told Shauna as much.  
  
Which is why she immediately swerved to aim a glare at said brunette, words poised,  _What is he doing here—_  
  
"Celie!" Shauna trilled, seemingly oblivious, except, how could she be when she'd been  _in the room_  when the two of them had last had it out? "Over here. Serie has your starter!"  
  
Classic Shauna, diffusing the tension before it reared its ugly head. This was her way of saying that the whole Calem thing could wait, should wait, had to wait. Celestine glanced at him from her peripheral, was met with a murderous glare, and decided, fine, whatever, she wasn't letting this get in the way of her Journey-to-be.  
  
Celestine made her way over to the table, where Serena, now smiling politely, had set down her bag on the table. A stylish bag—a purse, really, something that was way too casual to belong to someone who worked somewhere as professional as a research lab—with a Poke Ball clipped to the side, shrunken down to the size of a Ping-Pong ball.  
  
"Celestine Lavieaux,  _non_?" Serena held her hand out. "Serena Devereux. The Professeur talked about you quite a bit. It's nice to finally meet you."  
  
Celestine didn't accept her hand readily. Rather she stared at it, eyes calculating, then affixed the blonde with a similar stare. "We've met," was the Kantonian's cool reply. "In a way. I overheard you asking if I was a whore Hakase had hired."  
  
The reactions around the room were instantaneous—Serena's jaw fell open and her face turned bright red; Grace-san visibly flinched and glanced over her shoulder to gawk at the teenagers; Shauna blinked several times in rapid succession, her face blank with shock; Calem arched a brow, like,  _yeah, that doesn’t surprise me in the slightest_. Celestine frowned at that last one, wondering if it was really possible for someone to have such a low opinion of her after having met her only once.  
  
"W-Well," Serena stammered. "I was wrong about that, clearly."  
  
Calem muttered something that sounded suspiciously like  _"we don’t know that for sure"_.  
  
Irritated, Celestine leveled him with a narrow-eyed  _look_. "Why are you even here?"  
  
"Me and Cali were the ones who walked Serena here," Shauna piped up just as Calem was opening his mouth. He immediately cringed when the word  _Cali_  popped out of her mouth. Celestine could at least sympathize with him there—she was no fonder of Shauna's nicknaming penchant than he was. "Gave us time to catch up, too."  
  
Celestine arched a brow in bewilderment, tossing a glance from Calem and Shauna to Serena. "You know each other?"  
  
"Uh huh. Me and the guys spent a summer in Lumiose, which is where we met Serie."  
  
"Not to mention that Calem and I are cousins," Serena added sheepishly.  
  
"Oh?" Celestine looked between them, carefully scrutinizing their features. Aside from eye color and a vaguely similar slope to their noses, the two did not look too much alike. She would have never guessed. "Huh."  
  
"And what do you mean by  _that_?" Calem snapped.  
  
She  _stared_  at him. "You’re seriously going after me for a 'huh'?"  
  
He responded by glaring at her with enough acid to melt steel. She glared back just as fiercely, if not more so. For a few seconds, the air became charged with venom.  
  
Serena stepped between them, and even though she was five inches shorter, she somehow managed to divide them quite effectively. "Okay. Hey, Mademoiselle, do you want to meet your starter? I'm sure he's eager to meet you. After all, you're going to be partners, s-so..."  
  
Right, yes. Don't let that baka ruin your plans, Celestine. You've waited for this too long to screw it all up now.  
  
She nodded.  
  
Serena immediately darted over to the table, grabbed her purse, and unclipped the Ball, holding it out for Celestine to take. It was the same type of Poke Ball that you'd see in Kanto, the universal red and white hemispheres split by a black stripe and a white button. These were the ones that were mass-produced worldwide, used by veterans and rookies alike.  
  
Celestine accepted it. For all her experience handling Pokemon and Trainer equipment, she still found herself surprised by the warmth radiating from the metal surface and the faint thrumming against her fingers, almost vibrating. It was  _alive_. That was probably the only way one could differentiate an unused Ball from one that carried precious cargo. Outwardly, they looked identical, but the  _feel—_ the  _feel_  of a life in your hands, as if the metal itself was breathing, as if a little heartbeat was resting in your palms—that was not something you could ignore.  
  
Serena held out something else—a thick plastic card with a glossy finish, green with white lettering and a picture of Celestine's unsmiling face printed on it. Celestine took it gingerly, realizing that this was her ticket, her chance to start over. This little piece of plastic would allow her to finally leave, to train, to hold a Poke Ball in her hand and wield it like a true Trainer. She balanced the card and Ball in her hands, two sides of the same whole, two keys to one door she had been standing in front of, tapping her foot impatiently, for a little too long.  
  
Celestine turned to Serena, pocketing the card and gesturing to the Ball. "Before I open this, can you give me a hint of what kind of Pokemon I should be expecting?"  
  
Serena arched a brow, half playful and half incredulous. "Not eager to find out for yourself?"  
  
Little tip: only people with something to hide answered a question with a question. Celestine's brows lowered and her mouth pressed itself into a thin line. "I've never been a huge fan of surprises. They tend to blow up in your face at some point."  
  
At this, Serena laughed weakly,  _awkwardly_ , and turned away.   
  
Celestine straightened indignantly. "What did Hakase give me?" she asked slowly.  
  
Serena chewed on her lip, not meeting Celestine’s eye. "... _well—_ "  
  
The Kantonian stopped listening and instead ran her thumb over the white button in the Ball's center. As expected—the Ball must have been registered to her, or at least to a Trainer card that had finally been set up—a holographic screen cropped up with the stats of the Pokémon within. It had on its flickering list all the basics of what every Trainer needed to know about their Pokemon—stats, ability, species, nature, characteristic—the works. Celestine skimmed it—

  
_Name: Delphi  
Species: Fennekin, Fox Pokemon  
Type: Fire  
Location of possession: Vaniville Town  
Sex: Male  
Ability: Blaze  
Nature: Docile  
Characteristic: Takes plenty of sies—_

 

—and stopped reading. Don't get her wrong, she liked Fire Types. Of the traditional beginner's trinity, Fire and Water and Grass, her preference was Fire, hands down. But  _this_  Fire Type, this "Fennekin"—great Birds. Celestine had never heard of it, and that in itself of would only create problems. Her own, rather humiliating, ignorance was exactly why she'd asked Hakase to give her something she could work with, like of the three Kanto starters she  _knew_  that he kept in his lab for research purposes. It didn't even have to be a starter, either! Anything would do as long as she was familiar with it! And as if that wasn't bad enough, this "Fennekin" possessed a  _Docile_  nature, of all things. Now, the nature data is actually pretty important, as a correlation between stat growth and certain personalities had been observed by various experts, including Sinnoh's Holly-Hakase—Birds rest her soul—before her passing. According to this data, though, there would be no growth change, beneficial or harmful, of any kind. In layman's, her starter was, for all rights and purposes,  _average_.  _Painfully_  so.  
  
No wonder Serena had sounded so nervous.  
  
Celestine was going to strangle Hakase.  
  
With as much disdain as she could pack into her tone, Celestine turned to Serena and deadpanned, " _Why_."  
  
The Kalosian held her hands up placatingly. " _Hey_ , don’t look at me. The Professeur was the one who chose."  
  
"I know, but.  _Why_."  
  
Shauna craned her neck in an attempt to glimpse the screen, but she ended up brushing up against Celestine, making the taller girl tense. Celestine was not a fan of invasions of personal space, arigato. "Doesn't look so bad to me. Besides, you two might end up getting along really well!"  
  
Celestine growled in frustration. "That’s not the  _point_."  
  
Okay, yes, Shauna had a point—it was entirely wrong to dislike a Pokemon simply because of its species and nature. Celestine had no control over either. But this,  _this_ —the exact opposite of what she'd asked Hakase for! This wasn't what she wanted, what she  _needed_. No, she needed a partner that she could mesh with instantly, if not then one that could work well with her. This thing in her hand? It would only result in all sorts of problems that could only be worked out through long hard, weeks, maybe  _months_ , spent ironing outa relationship and learning, growing, having adapt. But she didn't  _want_  to have to adapt. She wanted something she could work with from the get go. She didn’t have  _time_  to adapt, to learn and grow and bond. She wanted— _needed—_ a strong starter and she needed it  _now_.  
  
Calem, of course, felt the needed to put in his two cents. "Forget it, Shauna. My guess is that she's interested in power level more than anything else." When Celestine shot him a glare, he arched a brow, as if in challenge. "Well? Am I wrong?"  
  
"Can I help you?" she asked, trying to sound less snarky and largely failing. "Or are you just here to be an ass?"  
  
"Alistair's fine,  _thanks for asking_ ," he growled back.  
  
" _Good_. I'd be so torn up if your bird hadn't made a full recovery, which,  _given the sheer advancement_  of healing tech these days, would have been a  _highly unlikely tragedy_."  
  
Shauna started to say something, probably to break up the fight, but Calem's sharp words silenced her. "Do you even care that he got hurt? You could have  _killed_  him."  
  
"But. I.  _Didn't_."  
  
"Are you even  _listening_  to yourself?"  
  
"Yes. My voice is birdsong and honey. Also, your passive-aggressive questions are really pissing me off." See how she hadn't answered that question with a question? That, ladies and gentlemen, is how you be evasive without drawing suspicion.  
  
Calem’s brow twitched. Serena and Shauna exchanged exasperated glances. "You're. You're  _unbelievable_. How can the Professeur even  _think_  about giving someone like you a Pokemon?"  
  
"Someone like me?" Celestine repeated slowly. She brushed her thumb over the central button again, dissipating the status screen, and tried unsuccessfully to tamp down her indignation.   
  
"What  _exactly_  do you mean by that?"  
  
Calem attempted to look down his nose at her, but her were close to the same height, eye-level, and if he looked too far down he would end up with a perfect view of her cleavage. Celestine's hand was poised to slap him, just in case. "You know  _exactly_  what I mean! There are Trainers out there, like you, who think that Pokemon are a  _joke_. Like their lives mean  _nothing_  and they're  _expendable_. That's it's  _okay_  to subject them to pain!"  
  
"Isn't every Trainer who battles like that?" she asked dryly.  
  
"That's—"  
  
"But I know what you’re referring to," Celestine interrupted. And indeed, she did. There were those out there, they were called "Berserkers", who seemed to enjoy the carnage of Reaper Battles to a morbid degree; who Reaped always, regardless of parameters; who enjoyed the sound of agonized screams and broken bones and were aroused by the red of blood. They saw Pokemon as dolls and puppets, chips on a board game that they always had to win, no matter what they had to sacrifice. Pokemon trained by Berserkers eventually became no more than cruel, mindless war pieces, so she could understand his concern, to an extent, given his impression of her.  
  
Still, though.   
  
Celestine crossed her arms. "Can I ask a stupid question?"  
  
Serena tried to squeeze her way between them (they had been gradually getting closer during our argument and were now practically in each other’s faces). "Calem, don---"  
  
Ignoring her vain efforts, Celestine continued. "You have beef with me because I caused your bird pain. I'll admit, I went overboard. I misread the situation. I'm  _sorry_." Calem narrowed his eyes, clearly not buying it. Not that she wasn't genuinely sorry. She was, having only attacked so brutally because she'd thought it was a kill-or-be-killed situation. Though it would make sense if he didn't believe her, because the annoyance coloring her tone certainly didn't make her sound particularly apologetic. "However, what I’d really like to know is how you can be such a hypocrite."  
  
" _What—_!" he started, but she cut him off.  
  
"You claim that anyone who causes unnecessary suffering or prolongs suffering is a horrible person." She paused, waiting for a confirmation. His brow twitched, and she took that as all she needed. "Okay. Fine. I caused your bird—Alistair—to suffer. The battle probably broke a few bones. Maybe bruised some more. And yet, rather than take him to the healer or whatever the  _hell_  you have here instead of a League-sanctioned Center, you chose instead to confront me. While I admire your dedication to your principle—and I mean that, I really do—you seem to forget that it's a Trainer's job to put their Pokemon  _first_."  
  
As Celestine spoke, a fierce, cool fury gripped her. Fury at his negligence, at his unwillingness to listen to her, at the demonized image of her he had of her, and not just him, either. She was furious at Hakase for setting her up for failure, she was furious at Shauna for not warning her that Calem was here, and it all accumulated into a cold burn against her sternum, which she focused on Calem. Calem frickin' Lafayette and his Birds-damned stubbornness.  
  
She leaned in closer and he flinched back ( _good, you should be afraid_ , she thought)—their eyes locked, blue and gray, cerulean flames and polished steel. Fire and steel, fire and steel.  
  
"The whole time you were yelling at me? Your bird was  _suffering_. You didn't even bother to put it in its Ball. At least the stasis would have prevented him from suffering needlessly. But instead, you  _ignored_  it."  
  
She punctuated her words by  _jabbing_  her finger into his chest, just above his heart.  
  
"It was  _in your arms_ , in  _extreme pain_ , and you  _ignored_  it. So, my question is that, if I'm a  _such_  horrible person,  _then what exactly does that make you_?"  
  
A hand clasped her shoulder, jolting Celestine out of her ranting. She swerved on her heel to verbally assault whoever decided it was their place to interrupt our argument, expecting either Shauna (who seemed fully convinced that Celestine's business was also her business, for whatever reason) or Serena (most likely to come to her cousin's aid). When Celestine saw that it was neither, however, her jaw snapped shut and she stared blankly in shock.  
  
"Alright, that's enough," Grace-san said evenly. Celestine was taller than her significantly, just like her daughter, but her face was stern enough that it didn't matter.

  
Celestine backed down immediately. Besides, she'd said what she'd wanted to say already and—if the way Calem was glaring in frustration at his feet was an indication—it seemed she'd won. She took a few steps back, hoping that the rush of satisfaction she felt against her sternum didn't show on her face.  
  
Grace-san crossed her arms and stared them down. Birds, her stare was worse than that of the Rhyhorn she kept in her backyard. "Now I don't know what this is about, but I'm ending this right here and now. Apologize to each other,  _now_."  
  
Calem snapped his head up. "But—"  
  
" _Now_."  
  
It didn't work like that, though. The two of them, Calem and Celestine, they were proud people, the kind who held their heads up high and were convinced that, even if we were in the wrong, the other should be the first to bridge the gap. It was people like them that had waged wars in ancient history, had been the ones to tear up the land and bring either great change or great ruin.  
  
The pair each other contemptuously, waiting for the other to break, to swallow their pride and bow their head. It was a waiting game, and it was one with too much on the line to lose. Whoever bowed first—they would be declaring themselves inferior to the other, that the other was in the right, regardless of the truth.  
  
“Celestine,” Shauna hissed, as if to say, this is your cue, girl, say something.  
  
But y’know what? Screw it. She’d tried to apologize to him  _two days ago_. Two days ago, she had been willing to swallow her pride, to hang her head in shame and admit she was wrong. But instead of at least hearing her out, he had fought her at every turn and, in the end, another one of Shauna’s friends had to break them up. Her frustration had been palpable, then, and just like now, it had overshadowed her remorse. Shauna had insisted that Calem would need a while to calm down—they both needed time to cool off.  
  
And yet, two days later, he barged in here—the day she had been anxiously awaiting for the  _last three weeks_ , since she’d first  _arrived_  in Kalos—acted towards her with nothing but hostility, had practically openly called her a horrible human being, and now she was expected to apologize?  _Hell_  no. That ship had  _sailed_. She might be sorry, hell she might be willing to lacerate her wrists and mar her back just prove she was apologetic, but dammit, you can’t expect someone to be apologetic after you treat them like crap. Grace-san couldn’t seriously expected  _her_  to make the first move on this, couldn’t she? It was absurd. Celestine may have screwed up two days ago, but  _this_ fight was entirely on Calem.  
  
It was a minute and a half before he broke eye contact and muttered something that sounded vaguely Kalosian. "Je suis desole", or something of that nature.  
  
That...  _was_  an apology, wasn't it? Honestly, Celestine was Kalosian, technically, but only by virtue of her mother's lineage. She had been born and raised in Kanto, had learned the mother tongue of the nation and its culture so much so that it was more her homeland than Kalos was. Her mother had tried to teach her the Kalosian language, but Celestine had never been able to grasp it. And yet, there was universality to apologies that made them recognizable, no matter the language. And that definitely sounded like an apology, no matter how grudging.  
  
Celestine knew she should apologize herself, but, hell, she was still pissed. He’d accused her of being a Berserker, of Bird’s sake! A half-assed apology in an obscure language wasn't about to pacify her.  
  
But Grace-san was expecting them to be mutually apologetic and Celestine owed the woman for opening her home. So, as tight as her throat was with fury, she managed to choke out a "sorry" of her own. It sounded broken and bitter, but Grace-san sighed, which was basically her way of saying "fine, whatever, at least you said it, but I expect more effort next time".  
  
Celestine wasn't sure if she could promise that.  
  
Shauna, who had been standing to the side and watching the whole exchange rather warily, suddenly clapped her hands loudly. Probably an attempt to break the tension. It failed miserably, but it drew everyone's attention, at the very least.  
  
"Okay, I know you guys are still pissed off at each other and I know it's probably gonna take some time for you to stop being pissed off, but"---And here, Shauna paused for dramatic effect---"we're all gonna set out on our journey today, so no negativity allowed."  
  
There was a long beat of silence.  
  
Calem pinched the bridge of his nose. "Shauna, you can't just  _decide_  to---"  
  
"YesIcanshutup!" Shauna swerved on her heel. On her head, Mint started to stir (lazy as hell, the Chespin was), blinking sleepily. "Celie, battle me!"  
  
Celestine snapped to attention, blinking in bewilderment. "Nani?"  
  
"Wha...?" Mint mumbled. The Grass-Type’s jaw parted in a yawn. "Wuz goin' on, now?"  
  
"C'mon! Trainers and Pokemon can learn so many things about each other through battle. You can use this experience to bond with your new starter! And who knows? Maybe you two will, like, insta-bond or whatever."  
  
Instantly, Celestine's thoughts tumbled back to her undesirable starter and she grimaced. Right, she still had to deal with that. She wanted to remind Shauna that battling was about more than just Trainer bonds, though that was an important part, and that another huge factor was a Pokemon's capabilities, which no amount of bonding could change, not even this "insta-bond" Shauna was babbling about. But, there was a stern, almost desperate light in Shauna's eye—the light of someone who was trying, someone who was reaching out their hand and asking you to help them because they need your help to go the whole way. And, dammit, Celestine wasn't heartless. She wasn't going to turn away when Shauna was trying  _so hard_  to salvage the situation (which Celestine  _had_  kinda ruined with this stupid feud with Calem and her inability to swallow her pride). Plus there was some truth to what Shauna was saying, in how a Pokemon's temperament could be understood through battle alone. Perhaps what Celestine's new starter—this "Fennekin"—lacked in stats he would make up for in guts.  
  
"Okay."  
  
Shauna blinked dumbly. "...wait, seriously?"  
  
"You don’t want to, now?"  
  
"No. I do, just..." Shauna shrugged. "Didn't expect you to agree so quickly."  
  
Celestine arched a brow. "Would you rather I argue vehemently?"  
  
"...never mind."  
  
"I can be the ref," Serena piped up. She sounded oddly eager.  
  
Calem sighed and reverted back to what Celestine assumed was his default expression of general distaste. "You realize you risk the chance of your Pokemon getting hurt."  
  
Celestine's lip twitched into a scowl. "Yeah. Not like there's a healing center in Aquacorde, like a fifteen-minute walk away, or anything."  
  
Grace-san was intervening in a heartbeat. "If you're going to battle, take it outside, alright?"  
  
Shauna had already taken hold of Celestine’s arm in that goddamn iron grip of hers. "'Kay. Thanks Mom!" And she was ushering Celestine out the door before the Kantonian could protest, with Calem and Serena at their heels.  
  
"And steer clear of the flower beds!" Grace-san called after them, "And the paddock!"  
  
"Will do!" The door to the kitchen slammed behind them, and the kitchen was suddenly silent, save for the sizzle of something cooking on the stove.

* * *

 

"So, standard rules, apply," Serena announced. She had positioned herself on the side out a makeshift battlefield (which was far away from the flowerbed  _and_  paddock, so it was really right in the middle of the yard) and seemed to be getting way too into this, at least in Celestine's opinion. It was just a starter battle, so there was nothing that justified the excited shimmer in the Kalosian's eye. "Non-Reaper, no battle items, and the battle ends with either Fainting, forfeit, or if either Pokemon is knocked out of bounds."  
  
"That last point isn't standard," Calem called over from where he'd seated himself on the squat, stone wall separating the Gabena's yard from the neighbors. Vaniville was absolutely covered in those stone walls, a crisscrossing maze that seemed to divide up the suburbs into neat little plots, but were low enough for someone to jump over. "It usually only applies to League-official Battles which have stadiums for spectators. If you get too close and start endangering people, you forfeit."  
  
Celestine watched as Serena's brows pinched with a twinge of irritation. "Thanks, Cal."  
  
Calem shrugged and muttered, "Just saying."  
  
"I  _know_  how battles work," Serena snapped, a little exasperated.  
  
"Okay, but, you can't  _say_  it's standard if it's  _not_."  
  
"Y'know  _what—_ "  
  
Calem held his hands up defensively. "I'm  _only saying_  because this is your first time refereeing."  
  
Shauna glanced at Celestine, looking a little annoyed herself as Serena fired back something about Calem being pedantic. "Wanna just start? These two may be cousins, but they bicker like siblings."  
  
Celestine watched the exchange silently from under her lashes. "...sure."  
  
"You okay?" Shauna asked, but Celestine was already striding over to her side of the field. She sighed herself and went over to the other side.  
  
The cousins, having noticed the two taking their positions, decided to take a rein check on their argument. Serena announced the rules again (pointedly excluding the part where she proclaimed the rules to be "standard" and casting Calem one last irritated look), but Celestine was hardly listening.  
  
She turned the Ball containing her partner over in her hands, fighting back a strange surge of anxiety and anticipation. Knowledge of the nature was one thing, but natures didn't necessarily constitute everything about a Pokemon's personality. Key personality traits designated natures, sure, but there were other, subtler personality traits that didn't necessarily translate into the nature system, and even then, there were various combinations and ways that these natures could manifest themselves. All she knew about her starter so far was that it possessed a Docile nature, which translated into a Pokemon that was relatively loyal and amicable toward their Trainers, but was that the whole story? How much more was there to this starter she had been so quick to judge?  
  
"Ready?" Serena called out.  
  
Shauna was stretching, as if she herself was the one about to battle. Mint was at her feet, mimicking her Trainer's actions, but she pushed herself a little too far and ended up toppling over on her back. Shauna giggled as the Chespin struggled to sit up, and before long they were both laughing.  
  
Celestine ran her thumb over the Ball in her hand.  
  
"Battle begin!"  
  
She pressed the central button before tossing the Ball lightly—it split down the hemisphere and spilled forth a stream of white light with a hiss. It calcified, midair, into a small vulpine quadrupedal that landed on dainty paws. The first thing she could make out as the light dispersed was a golden pelt, then a long tail and ears, and then thick tufts of orange fur. It glanced over at her, revealing a long, white snout and gleaming amber eyes, as the Ball fell back into her waiting palm.  
  
"Um," it—he—said, and he sounded oddly young. "Are you—"  
  
"Yes, I am your Trainer," Celestine interrupted. "My name is Celestine Lavieaux, but I have a feeling that Hakase already told you that. Your name is Delphi, if I am not mistaken?"  
  
"Well, um, yeah, but what's—"  
  
Celestine held up her hand. "Now isn't the time for questions. We’re going to battle and you're going to prove to me that you're actually competent. Lucky for you, this is pass-fail and we can address nuances of improvement later."  
  
Delphi blinked. "What—"  
  
Celestine turned to Shauna. "You can have the first move."  
  
"Really?"  
  
"Sure. What the hell."  
  
"I still don't understand," Delphi said, but the battle was already beginning.  
  
Shauna pointed dramatically at Delphi, the kind of dramatic pointing that was usually accompanied by harsh backlighting and a dynamic background, like in movies or cartoons. "Okay, Mint, let's start off with Rollout!"  
  
What.  
  
Before Celestine could ask why Shauna never mentioned the fact that her Chespin knew a  _potentially fatal move_ , Mint leaped into action, curling up and racing forward to plough into the Fennekin. The Fire-Type, quite foolishly, froze, and his expression lit with panic.   
  
"WhatdoIdowhatdoIdowhatdoIdo?"  
  
"Stay calm for one thing!" Celestine snapped. She turned back to Mint—now moments away from hitting Delphi—and noted how the Chespin was subtly turning to the left. "Okay, go to right! Put about a meter or so of distance between you!"  
  
Delphi turned back to her, utterly clueless. "What's a meter!?"  
  
Oh, right. They had a different measurement system in the New Continent. Inches and feet or something.  
  
But there was no time for that right now. Mint was literally right there and why the hell was Delphi just standing there!? "Eyes on the—"  
  
Too late. Mint bowled into Delphi and knocked him to the edge of the battlefield. He was still in bounds, technically, but that hardly seemed to matter. It took him a full fifteen seconds to get up, shakily, shake his head, and stop swaying. In that time, Mint had already retreated back to her side and was gearing up for another go.  
  
Celestine held the Ball up again and frantically called up the status screen.  _Power level, power level, where the hell is it—aha!_

_  
  
Nature: Docile  
Characteristic: Takes plenty of siestas  
Moves: Tackle, Growl, Ember  
Level: Five_

  
Five. He was level five.  
  
"He'd going to die," Celestine realized aloud, but her voice came out too hoarsely to be heard. Mint was already moving again. Delphi flinched, ears pressed back against his skull.  
  
Oh no. Oh  _no_.  
  
Celestine opened her mouth to speak again, hoping to relay a last-minute command—something,  _anything—_ but to her surprise, Calem's voice shouted, "Shauna! Call Mint off!  _Now_!"  
  
Bewilderedly, Shauna did so. Mint slowed to a stop in front of Delphi, and the Fennekin opened one eye tentatively, still braced for impact.  
  
"What's going on?" Shauna asked, crossing the field to collect her Chespin. Serena and Celestine went to meet her.  
  
Calem leaped off the wall and approached them, though his pace was a little more hurried than the girls'. "Do you not know that Rollout gets more deadly the more rounds it's used?"  
  
"But we're not Reaping," Shauna said, uncomprehending.  
  
"There are some moves where it’s harder to deal non-lethal blows, simply because of their nature," Celestine explained. Now that the danger to her starter had passed, it was easier to keep her voice level. She chose to look down at Delphi, who was just starting to relax with the realization that the battle was on pause, rather than Shauna. "Rollout is one of those moves, especially the more you use it. The fifth hit? Almost always kills."  
  
Celestine heard Shauna squeak. "OhgreatLeviathanIhadnoideaCelestineI'msosorry—"  
  
"I believe you," Celestine cut in. She was too exasperated the listen to Shauna's rambling apologies right now. She tore her gaze off Delphi and fixed Serena with a glare. "Serena, do tell what the  _hell_  Hakase was thinking when he gave me a  _level five starter_."  
  
"Level..." Serena did an incredulous double take between Delphi and Celestine. "Wait, he gave you a beginner-level Pokemon?"  
  
"You didn't know?"  
  
"No." The Kalosian bit her lip. "I didn't have access to his data. That's... oh. That explains why he didn't want me using him in battle on the way here."  
  
Shauna looked totally lost. "What's wrong now?"  
  
Celestine growled, turning away and tearing a hand through her bangs, fury welling inside her gut. A beginner-level starter. Un-fucking-believable. Did Hakase think this was funny? Forcing her to start from scratch? She didn't have the time or patience for this...this...whatever this was that was happening right now. Sacred Birds, this was practically a defilement of the natural order! Only beginners got Pokemon of this level. A veteran like herself should at least be given a starter that was close to evolution. This one was painfully inexperienced, by the looks of it, as well as timid in battle. Like, hello, it's like this is your fir—  
  
Wait a second.  
  
She whirled around to face the Fennekin, who immediately cowered at her glare. "How old are you?"  
  
"W—"  
  
"How. Old. Are. You."  
  
Delphi made the clever decision not to piss her off any further. "L-Like three..."  
  
"Years?"  
  
"Uh-huh."  
  
Okay. That was fine. Most Pokemon didn't live as long as people anyway. She expected that, honestly. "And how long does your species usually live?"  
  
"U-Um..."  
  
" _Faster_ , please. And less stuttering," Celestine snapped. She caught Calem frowning at her and sent him a peripheral glare.  
  
Delphi flattened his ears against his skull. "Like— Like sixty?"  
  
"Are you asking me or telling me?"  
  
"T-Telling you?"  
  
Celestine  _glared_.  
  
The Fennekin shrank back. "Telling you. Yup, telling you."  
  
She nodded. Sixty, okay. Okay, so three out of sixty was...one twentieth, wasn't it? The average human lived ninety or so years, and one twentieth of that was four-point-five. Now, factor in the fact that Pokemon tend to mature twice as fast as humans do—  
  
...and she was stuck babysitting a fox with the maturity of a nine-year-old.  
  
Celestine fought down the overwhelming urge to scream. "Was this your first battle?"  
  
"I. W-Well, I—"  
  
" _Yes or no._  "  
  
The Fennekin cowered. "Well, s-sorta, yeah, but—"  
  
Celestine cut him off with a frustrated scream. She turned around, a stream of rapid-fire Kantonese cascading from her lips and her arms flailing around in wild gestures. As she went on, it got steadily louder, to the point where the three backed away to give her space and Delphi took shelter behind Serena's legs.  
  
"...does anyone have any idea what she's saying?" Mint asked, craning her neck to glance at her Trainer.  
  
It was one thing for Hakase to give her a Pokemon that she had absolutely no knowledge of—it  _was_  troublesome, more so than she was willing to admit—but this was just  _insulting—_  
  
Serena shrugged. "No clue."

  
—did he think she was no better than a beginner? Did he think she wasn't  _strong_  enough to handle one of his higher-tier starters? Because she was! She had  _years_  of experience! But apparently that didn't  _matter_. Apparently that translated to being saddled with a rookie, a child with no experience and was likely to prove incredibly difficult, especially given the severity of her goal. After all, she was trying to—  
  
Calem eyed the Kantonian warily—her red, livid face and her burning eyes and the way she occasionally tore at her hair. "...y'know, that might be for the best."  
  
—but  _apparently_  that doesn't make a  _fucking difference_. Nope! No siree! Reasons didn't matter. Experience level didn't matter. What the hell  _did_? What the hell made it okay to treat her like a beginning Trainer when she so  _wasn't_? When she had years under belt? Didn't that  _matter_!? Yeah, she was grateful and all for him pulling strings for her like this, but if he was just going to go and basically tell her she needed to start from scratch because she wasn't  _good enough_  to start higher up, then he could just—  
  
"Totally," Shauna agreed. "I've watched enough subbed anime to recognize that there's a  _whole_  lotta cursing in there."

—and what the  _fuck_  was a Fennekin, anyway? How could she battle with something she didn't know about? Basic things—stats, capabilities, moveset, temperament. All the things that a Trainer needed to know about a species, all the things that were usually taught in school, but she hadn't learned because she wasn't from  _Kalos_. Did Hakase  _honestly_  expect her to be able to battle with—to  _protect—_ something she knew absolutely nothing about? It was like throwing her into the deep end and the only thing that was to keep her from drowning was a solitary water wing with a little hole in it so all the air could leak out. Hakase must be  _insane_  to think she could handle this—  
  
Behind Serena's legs, Delphi emitted a whine.  
  
"I'm going to kill him," Celestine announced, switching back to Common. Her face was still wrathful, and her eyes  _glowed_  with fury. "I'm going to take his scrawny neck into my hands and I’m going to wring it out like a washcloth. I don't care if he's a famous researcher, he is going to die slowly and painfully, I swear to god."  
  
Shauna glanced over at Serena and whispered, "I still don't get what the big deal is."  
  
Calem sighed. "It's because she doesn't want to start over."  
  
Celestine paused and curled her hands into fists. The hell did  _he_  know about how she felt? He came here, purely argumentative, and then talked about how she felt like he knew her?  
  
_That's it_ , she thought.  _He's on the list right after Hakase._  
  
"What do you mean?" Shauna asked, oblivious to Celestine's mounting irritation.  
  
"Well, strong Trainers, they get used to being strong, y'know? They usually want to keep that strength." Celestine shot Calem a sidelong glare and comforted herself with fantasies of his death. "Y'know, like climbing to the top of the mountain, or at least getting pretty damn close. But say you had to start over again and climb back up to the top again. Would you rather start closer to the top, or closer to the bottom?"  
  
"Top," Shauna answered immediately, apparently not realizing the question was rhetorical until Calem arched a brow condescendingly. She flushed. "Well—! Just 'cause it'd be a pain in the ass to go through it all again!"  
  
_Exactly!_  Celestine thought, relieved that at least  _someone_  was on her side.  
  
Mint scampered out of Shauna's arms and climbed back to her original position on Shauna's head. "Okay, so, she's pissed off because she’s starting closer to the bottom? I can dig it."  
  
"Precisely," Calem said, his tone annoyingly flat to the point of being patronizing. "Though, I think 'pissed off' is a bit of an understatement."  
  
At that, Celestine rounded on him. "Okay,  _look_. I get that you don't like me. I don't really like you either, but you don't see me taking every opportunity to antagonize you."  
  
"Yeah, you ooze maturity," he drawled, the sarcasm too thick to miss. "Like that tantrum just now. The mark of a real adult."  
  
A rush of indignation consumed her. "I already told you I didn't mean to hurt your bird!"  
  
"I'm not  _talking_  about Alistair---but I am still pissed about that. No, what I'm  _talking_  about is you having unrealistic expectations of your starter!" He was raising his voice now, and there was something strangely satisfying about being able to rile him up. Calem Lafayette, the picture of maturity, eh? Hypocritical little bastard. "You're expecting him to place you, like, a few feet from the top, but that's not how it  _works_. Starters are supposed take you to the  _base_  of the mountain. That's why they're called  _starters_."  
  
"The base?" Celestine let out a sharp, sardonic laugh. "I  _wish_. As it is, this thing only takes me to sea level  _at best_."  
  
Delphi let out a whimper and Calem's eyes hardened. "'This thing' has a name, and you're really hurting  _his_  feelings."  
  
She ran a hand through her bangs in exasperation. Okay, fine, she was a bitch. She was willing to admit that, at least. But at least she wasn't being argumentative for the sake of being argumentative. "We can discuss my insensitivity issues later. In the  _meantime_ , I'm still stuck with a starter I have absolutely no compatibility with."  
  
"You haven't even given him a  _chance_!"  
  
"Yes I  _did_!" she shouted back. "We battled and he fucking  _blew it_."  
  
"Because you put him on the spot!"  
  
Off to the side, Shauna muttered something along the lines of "you kinda did."  
  
Celestine gawked at the shorter girl, the initial shock quickly combusting into indignance. "You're taking  _his_  side!?"  
  
"Wha— No! No no no!" Shauna spluttered, holding her hands up defensively. “I'm on no one's side!"  
  
"And why not?" Celestine demanded. " _You're_  the one who got me in your guys' fight in the  _first place_."  
  
"Which I still think was insensitive on her part," Calem added shortly.  
  
Celestine snapped back to him. "Which you covered extensively. You almost made her cry."  
  
Shauna looked up at Mint helplessly and muttered, "Are they fighting over me? How did this go from Delphi to me?" To which Mint shrugged, Delphi poked his head out from behind Serena's legs, and the aforementioned blonde stifled a groan while facepalming.  
  
Calem pinched the bridge of his nose. "That's not even what we're talking about. What we're talking about is you being overly critical of your starter after knowing him for less than five minutes."  
  
"I'm being critical based on a mediocre performance in battle," Celestine retorted.  
  
"Justified by the fact that he was at a huge disadvantage." Calem turned to Shauna. "What level is Mint?"  
  
"Uh, l-like... Uh..."  
  
"Twelve. I'm level twelve,” Mint interrupted. She looked down at Shauna meaningfully. "I'd be higher if we battled more, though."  
  
Shauna muttered a long, rambling soliloquy about how she wasn't exactly a super-experienced Trainer and couldn't technically battle until last year and that Mint was just a pet before then and there weren't a lot of Trainers around these parts to battle with anyway, so it's not like it's her fault, okay?  
  
"Okay." Calem turned back to Celestine, annoyingly calm like he had just found conclusive proof that she had lost the argument. "Twelve versus five. That's a huge level gap. There was no way Delphi was going to win that, especially given that Mint knows Rollout."  
  
"Thanks Calem," Mint chirped cheerily.  
  
"You're welcome," he deadpanned back.  
  
"I didn't expect him to  _win_ ," Celestine retorted. "I expected him to  _fight back_ , at the very least. Instead, he froze up, panicked, and proved he has  _absolutely no talent_  for dealing with pressure."  
  
"He turned to you for a  _command_ ," Calem shot back. "Last I checked, that was  _normal_  for Pokemon during a battle."  
  
"Yes, it  _is_  normal to follow commands," she conceded, her voice falsely saccharine. Her over-pronunciation of her syllables, as if talking down to a child, made Calem narrow his eyes. "Very  _good_ , Calem. You know battles work! Now, for bonus points, tell if it's normal for the Pokemon to lose his nerve, let himself get beaten into submission,  _and_  expected me to do all the legwork. And is it normal for the Trainer to have to tell their Pokemon to dodge an attack that's coming  _right at them_? Doesn't  _logic_  dictate that you should  _move out of the way_  and not  _sit there complacently_?" And at this point, the sweetness was so thick with frustration that it was practically nonexistent. She reverted back to her earlier tone of condescension. "I'm sorry, I don't care  _how_  insensitive it sounds, it  _needs_  to be said—I can't work with a starter that can't or  _won't_  think for themselves."  
  
Calem glared wordlessly, and even after having met him only twice, Celestine could tell that it meant she'd won. He turned to Serena in exasperation. "Rena, help me."  
  
Serena snorted a laugh. "Oh, I'm  _so_  not getting involved in this. You're on your own, Cal."   
  
" _Fine_." Calem turned back to Celestine. "Alright, you guys don't click. That doesn't mean he's a bad starter, it just means you have to find ways to work together. And if you're  _really_  a great Trainer,  _like you claim_ , that shouldn't a problem."   
  
Was he seriously turning her own argument from two days ago back on her? The  _bastard_.  
  
Shauna made a move to step between them but Celestine was  _done_  trying to be nice to him.  _Screw_  amicability.  _Screw_  friendship ties. Screw it all! Y'know what, maybe she was  _glad_  his bird had gotten hurt. Maybe she was  _glad_  she hadn't made the mistake of actually being nice to him in the first place, just so that he might stab in the back later on if she were to fuck up. Now, though, she had the luxury of saying she could completely and utterly  _despise_  him, no strings attached.  
  
"That is  _exactly_  my point,” she snarled. And there would be no trace of remorse as she tore into him—this was the Trainer who Reaped and did not apologize, the ruthlessness he so despised. He wanted a monster? Well, then,  _fine_. He was going to get a  _fucking monster_. "I'm a  _Trainer_ , not a  _fucking babysitter_. Why Hakase  _thought_  it was such a brilliant idea to give me a  _kid_ , I'll never know, but it fucking  _isn't_. I can't  _work_  with a starter this  _inexperienced_! I don't have the  _time_  or the  _patience_  for it. I'm not  _that_  kind of Trainer. Y'know, people like you who think it's  _totally okay_  to coddle and pamper and spoil their team—and then blames the other person when they die. Does it  _ever_  occur to you that,  _sometimes_  it's not the other person's fault.  
  
" _Sometimes_ , crazy as it is, a Pokemon just dies because the Trainer  _didn't do their fucking job right_.  _Sometimes_  all that coddling and spoiling doesn't prepare them for the real thing. Y'know, death, Reaper battles, all the things you Kalosians are  _so fucking scared of_. But y'know  _what_? They  _exist_  and it can happen to  _anyone_.  _Anyone can fucking die_. And, sorry to break this to you Lafayette, that  _includes_  your precious bird. If I don't kill him, then someone else probably will, because you're not  _fucking prepared_. That's the only reason your bird is so injured! That's the reason he's laid up the way he is! Because you expect  _everyone_  to play by your rules like  _your rules_  are the only ones out there! Well, news flash—they're not! There are gonna be people out there who won't  _fucking care_  if you're a rookie or a veteran! They won't  _fucking care_  if you're fighting with a level thirty Pokemon or a level five Pokemon! They won't  _fucking care_  that you know shit about this region because you're a foreigner! And they won't  _fucking care_  that your partner is a kid and that he's too inexperienced to train properly and then it's  _your_ fault he  _fucking died_!"  
  
A stunned silence enveloped the them. Calem was absolutely stunned and it was the first time Celestine had seen him look at her with something that wasn't outrage. Serena and Shauna looked at her with something that disgustingly close to pity, while Mint wouldn't meet her eye. Delphi looked up at her with an eclectic mix of fear, shame, disappointment, and reverence.  
  
"They won't  _fucking care_ ," Celestine said hoarsely, and it was just then that she realized her voice was breaking and her eyes were wet and her hands were shaking and  _what the hell she wasn't supposed to be **this weak**_. "And I am  _not_  having this kid's death on my hands. I just... I can't... I can't..."  
  
Calem opened his mouth to say something, but Mint piped up, shakily, "Hey, guys? I— I t-think the neighbors are...starting to...notice, yeah..."  
  
Celestine glanced around and saw that, in fact, some of the neighbors were beginning to poke their heads out. Perfect. Fucking  _perfect_. She let out a string of Kantonese curses under her breath before making towards the house. "Okay, we're finishing this inside."  
  
Calem looked around, flushed, and said nothing—just made a B-line for the house. Serena trailed after him, her shoulders a little hunched. Shauna followed at Celestine's heels while casting self-conscious looks over her shoulder.  
  
The door slammed behind them, loud enough for Grace-san to notice and look up from what she was cooking. "Hey, you fou— Oh." She paused, taking in everyone's disgruntled expressions. "Did it not go well?"  
  
Another silence. No one was willing to talk about Celestine's quote un-quote "meltdown".  
  
Calem turned to her, his eyes for once not cold or hard or furious. "Celestine—"  
  
"I'm going upstairs to pack," Celestine heard herself announce, and she was running up the stairs before anyone could stop her.  
  
Once she was alone, safely ensconced inside the silent sanctuary of the guest room, a groan broke from her throat. She pressed her back against the door and slid down until she was sitting, curling her knees to her chest, burying her face in her hands. Oh, Birds, this was just too much to process all at once.  
  
What the hell had  _that_  been? What was  _wrong_  with her? Exploding like that, dumping all that emotional sewage on  _Calem Lafayette_ , of all people? And Serena, whom she hardly knew? And, most of all, Shauna---sweet,  _innocent_ , too-nosy-for-her-own-good Shauna. No doubt she was going to take it upon herself to  _fix_  Celestine, like she had a  _fucking problem_. God, Shauna was  _never_  going to leave her alone now. From this point on, it was going to be an endless barrage of suffocating concern and pestering and are you okay Celestine, you look like you might have another meltdown today, I’m going to stick to you like  _fucking glue_  because you're another charity case in need of constant supervision. Fuck no! She was  _not_  going to endure that!   
  
This was all Hakase's fault. Right. Yes.  _He_  was the one who had given her such an inexperienced starter. What the  _literal fuck_  had he been thinking? Was he out his fucking  _mind_!? Giving her a kid, of all things. A  _kid_. A literal  _four-year-old_  with the mental capacity of a  _nine-year-old_. How he expected her to deal with that, she hadn't the slightest clue. She wasn't a fucking nanny. She was a Trainer, and she trained warriors. That's it. End of story. Hakase knew that. She'd told him that herself. She'd made it crystal clear what she needed, and he  _still_  sent her this meek, naive little fox, who doubtlessly had delusions of a Journey full of sunshine and rainbows and everything being all honky-dory. Why!? Just,  _why_!? It was glaringly obvious that the kid had confidence issues and a Journey was not an instant fix to that! Journeys were fucking  _dangerous_ , goddammit! Especially  _her_  Journey.  _How_  was she supposed drag him along in good conscious? It was  _one_  thing to have an older, more experience and cantankerous starter that would be immune to a cynicism catalyst because they were already aware of how dark the world could be but this  _kid_ \---this little kid, timid and docile and eager to please, still learning how to be confident without the approval of others or to stand up for themselves—no. Great Sacred Birds, no no no no  _no_. She was  _not_  the answer to confidence issues! She was a bitter, cynical teenager who breathed in sarcasm and exhaled snark and didn't care whose feelings she trampled on when she was pissed off enough.  
  
So that settled it, then. Hakase was out of his fucking mind.  
  
A steady, painful thumping built behind her skull. Celestine hissed and massaged her eyes with her palms, but the pain was already moving down her spine and spreading to every inch of her body—  
  
_Dammit, this shit's still in my system!?_  
  
She clenched her teeth, slammed the back of her head against the door and tried not to writhe against the flood of dull agony. It would fade, it would pass, it just took a minute, was all. In the meantime, Celestine was fighting the urge to scream by rocking back and forth.  
  
Dark shapes shifted beneath her eyelids and she squeezed them tighter in an attempt to dissipated them. They started to take humanoid shapes—she jammed her palms against her eyes.  
  
_They're not real, they're not real, they're not real, they're not fucking **real—**_  
  
Just when she thought the pain crescendoed to the point of being unbearable—it stopped, suddenly and all at once, so quickly that it left her almost numb. She gasped, slumping against the door, her breaths coming out in desperate gulps.  
  
Celestine opened her eyes slowly. Her lashes were sticky and her vision blurred, wetness having appeared on her face in streaks. She sniffed, wiping it away with the back of her hand and cursed in hushed Kantonese.  
  
She caught a glimpse of her reflection in the mirror. The girl that had once stood so tall and fearless now seemed small and powerful and so unbearably  _scared_.  
  
"You are fucking screwed," Celestine told her, and the girl buried her face in her hands once more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Meet the rivals, the starter, get into a fight, and oh look, our protagonist may not be mentally stable. Yipee!
> 
> FWI, Serena pretty much replaces Sina in CLV, so there's that. Dexio is still here, though. (I had this planned long before Sina and Dexio showed up in Sun and Moon so fite me).
> 
> Okay, I'm the queen of slow exposition. I'm so sorry. Things will pick officially up and get moving next chapter. 
> 
> The Old Continent uses the metric system while the New Continent uses the English system, because Unova is part of the New Continent and Unova is based off the USA, so. Yeah. And I know Kalos is based off France, but I've always pictured CLV!Kalos to be a bit more like French Canada based on its placement on the New Continent (Unova is in the south, Kalos is in the north, and then there's this patch of land that sorta links 'em). So, yeah, there. (even though Canada uses the metric system but insignificant details)
> 
> And, finally, I would like to apologize for the amount of exposition in this chapter. I tend to go nuts with exposition and introspective parts because that's where I shine, and then struggle with dialogue pieces because they feel too sparse. I'm weird like that. But thank you all for putting up with it and I promise that it will get less expository as time goes on.
> 
> And BTW, the reason Serena thought Celestine was a prostitute is because Sycomore is known to be a bit of a player and, well, wouldn't you this it was weird if this really pretty but underaged girl was staying with a middle-aged man for a couple weeks? What exactly would they be doing behind closed doors? And that's where Serena came to her conclusion. It was wrong, of course, but justified, given her lack of information.
> 
> And the language stuff:
> 
> \- The part in which Celestine says "Nani?" is actually her saying "what?" in Kantonese. She was so shocked by Shauna's request that she slipped back into her first language. (Yes, her name is Kalosian because she's technically Kalosian, but she grew up in Kanto, so she considers herself Kantonese at heart).  
> \- "Je suis desole" is "I'm sorry" in French, particularly after you've wronged someone or apologizing for a fight.  
> \- "Professeur" is French for "Professor". I have no idea why French has so many words that are similar to English but are spelled differently, don't ask me. French spelling and pronunciation are the bane of my existence.
> 
>  
> 
> Until next time,  
> Luna


	3. Chapter 2: Charmant

**Charmant**  
(adjective)

  * French for "lovely", "charming", "delightful", and "pleasant"



 

" _This time, I wonder what it **feels like**  
To find the one in  **this life** , the one we all  **dream of**  
But dreams just  **aren't enough**_ "  
—"Gotta Be Somebody", Nickelback

 

  
  
Delphi wasn't sure how to react, but something stung, and it felt a lot like rejection.  
  
The kitchen had fallen silent in the wake of Trainer's outburst. Right now, everyone was sitting around the table, eating the meal that Madame Gabena had prepared and insist they eat before they headed out. Something called a "sloppy joe" that the dark-haired boy called Calem eyed with distaste but Mint's Trainer and Mme Gabena's daughter, a plucky girl named Shauna, insisted was Hoenn comfort food. The second girl—Serena, Delphi recognized her as an assistant working under Oncle Augustine—hadn't said a word about the meal choice and had simply dug right in (with ladylike grace, of course, or as much ladylike grace as one could manage while eating ground meat in a hamburger bun). He and Mint, the Chespin who had minutes ago been his adversary in his very first official battle, were situated on the lacquered surface of the table, snacking on the macarons that Mme Gabena had whipped up, claiming that she "hadn't forgotten about them". It was really sweet of her, and the treats were delicious. Delphi had always had a sweet tooth, so he took to them like a Combee to honey, though he did have to find himself eating a little fast so that Mint didn't gobble them all up. Who knew such a little Pokemon could have such a large appetite?  
  
No one had talked. Mme Gabena had given up on asking what had happened in the backyard and had simply set a place aside for Trainer before explaining that she had to return something to the neighbors, that she would be right back, and that there was, under no circumstances, to be any fighting while she was gone.  
  
It had been fifteen minutes since she left and Delphi was getting restless.  
  
"...how long does it take to return a frying pan?" Serena muttered. She had finished her meal and her plate sat in front of her, a little messy because of the meat sauce but otherwise clean. Everything about her seemed graceful to Delphi. Always had been.  
  
Shauna and Calem both seemed stunned by the fact the fact that she had spoken up, but both seemed eager for a safe topic of conversation nonetheless.  
  
"Well," Shauna began, idly running her finger along the rim of her glass of water, "it's Mme Dubois, so..."  
  
Calem frowned in distaste. Delphi had seen little of the human male, but it seemed to be Calem's default expression. "That old lady who lives down the street and still thinks it's okay to wear miniskirts even though she's, like, eighty?"  
  
"Seventy, and yeah. She always ends up talking Mom's ear off about how I'm growing to be a 'respectable and well-mannered young lady', but I should lay off on dating because women are 'precious pearls in need of protecting' and all that jazz." Shauna's face had settled into a rather uncomplimentary frown. Unlike Calem, her face was more suited to pretty smiles. "Which is totally stupid, even if she didn't have a super active dating life that made her a total hypocrite."  
  
"On the bright side," Mint piped up, all the-glass-is-always-half-full, "you can't tell she's seventy 'cause she's had that, uh... What'dya call it, plassic surgery?"  
  
"Plas _tic_ ," Calem corrected. "With a 't'."  
  
"Whatever, man. Humans are weird."  
  
Delphi totally agreed. There were so many ways in which humans baffled him that he couldn't even count. Styling their hair, changing their clothing every day, their fascination with youth, and their complicated mating rituals. He really, really didn't understand that last one. Oncle had tried to explain it to him once and he just ended up hopelessly lost. Too many social conventions. Actually, that was another thing Delphi didn't get—social convention. Oncle said he would pick it up with age and exposure but, well... Time would tell, he supposed? He really wasn't overly concerned with his ignorance of human socialization more so than he was with the low opinion Trainer currently had of him.  
  
He winced. Thinking about just how royally he'd messed up. Maybe it was unconventional to just get thrown into a battle like that, but that didn't give him the right to just freeze up like that and panic. Sure, it was his first battle, but who  _cares_? It was his chance to show his stuff in front of his new Trainer, something every starter dreamed of and prepared for since they were hatchlings.  
  
And he'd  _blown_  it.  
  
Technically, he  _did_  have an excuse, but it was a weak one at best. He'd participated in sparring matches (which was really just a fancy way of referring to the rough-housing and playfighting of young, dreamy-eyed starters as they wiled away their childhood in the lab) before, but they hadn't involved the use of actual moves, just playful bites and kicks and headbutts. It wasn't until he saw Mint barreling towards him that it hit how real this all was, how terrifyingly close death was if he made one wrong move. It had  _scared_  him, more than anything he'd ever experienced before.  
  
_"I can't work with a starter that can't or **won't**  think for themselves."_  
  
Just thinking about it made Delphi cringe. It had been painful to hear that coming from the person he'd dreamed would be his partner in a Journey of hardship and overcoming, of sorrows and glory and triumph and everything in between. Given her outburst, it was safe to assume that he wasn't the sole reason for her frustration—there was clearly something else eating at her—but it still sent a pang of shame through him. Even worse, Trainer had not turned out to be the kind of person he had expected.  
  
Ever since he was a hatchling, he'd  _dreamed_  of being partners to a young aspiring Trainer, one filled with hopes and dreams and potential. A novice, innocent and naive and childish, eager for the liberating taste of adventure, and oh so clueless about the real nuances of a journey—the death, that is—but would learn, allow it to peel the delicate outer rind of innocence from them and emerge stronger, experienced, growing into the talent they possessed. Someone more like himself, Delphi had thought, more like who he hoped to become. Someone who greeted the cresting dawn with a radiant smile, embraced the world and all its aspects with open arms, and who would happily and blissfully engage in a conversation, forge an instant connection that would have deepened into something unbreakable by the end of their journey.  
  
Never, though, had he considered that he would flunk the minute he met his Trainer face to face. That he would freeze up during his first battle—and why would he? Death was always an afterthought, a little smudge in the grand scheme of a grand adventure. There were always cautious words and saddened looks that came from the aides or foster Trainers or even Oncle himself, but why should Delphi worry about something like that? It seemed wrong to worry yourself over the shadows when the light was so much more appealing to focus on. And besides, he’d heard the tales of caution enough to know what not to do and how to be careful and all that stuff everyone was always going on about. When he’d gone into that first battle, he thought he knew the risk already, and he had acknowledged it, come to terms with it.  
  
_Experiencing_  it, however...  
  
Trainer was right. He had been weak, hesitant,  _cowardly_. Fear had ruled him and it had allowed him to be knocked senseless by a single blow. In his panic, he'd turned back for guidance, forgetting that this was test of  _his_ ability, not hers. It was pass-fail, she'd said. We'll address improvements later, she'd said. Just show me you're competent, she'd said.  
  
And he hadn't even done  _that_.   
  
_"I didn't expect him to **win**. I expected him to  **fight back** , at the very least."_  
  
Delphi emitted a whine.  
  
"You okay there, Delpharoony?"  
  
He perked up. Delpha...roony?  
  
The Fennekin glanced over to the side at Mint, who was blissfully munching on macaroons, like his world  _hadn't_  just turned on its head and was quickly descending into a downward spiral of overall badness. "...are you talking to me?"  
  
"You're name's Delphi ain't it?"  
  
"Er, yeah, but..."  _That's not what you said..._  
  
She paused, her expression morphing into something resembling concern. "Hey, I didn't bruise you too bad with that Rollout back there, did I?"  
  
"Huh?" Delphi straightened. "Oh! No, no, I'm fine. Really."  
  
"You sure? You got a pretty big bump on your noggin there."  
  
"I do?"  
  
"Yeah. Right..." Mint touched his forehead with her paw, and he winced at the sudden throb of dull pain. Oh, yeah, please don't touch the places that hurt, merci. "Oops. Sorry there, pal. But, yeah, right there. Big as a crab apple, it is."  
  
Delphi didn't know what a crab apple was, but he didn't object.  
  
"I'm fine." He reached up to touch it, gingerly. Ooh, still sore. "It's mostly just swelling. It'll go down."  
  
Mint looked relieved. "That's good. I was worried I'd given ya a concussion or somethin'."  
  
Delphi nodded, grateful for her concern, even if it was a little unnecessary. Pokemon were much more durable than humans were or could ever dream to be. For Pokemon, bruises and bumps and such healed within a few hours. A concussion might have Delphi laid up for a few days, but it wouldn't be months and months of slow healing, taking pills to ease headaches, and taking it easy as it would a human. Perhaps that was why Pokemon participated in battles while human Trainers stood on the sidelines, plotting the battle out from a spectator's vantage.  
  
Mint probably already knew that, though. For all her chill and grammar faults, he seriously doubted she was stupid, or even slow. No, that was just in her nature. Rough and tumble, with a shell on her back as strong as her heart was big. Quite a complement to her Trainer, now that he thought about it. If only he could complement his own Trainer in the same manner.  
  
"So, does this mean you're going to be nicer to Celestine from now on?" Shauna asked, her attention fixed on the Calem boy.  
  
Delphi immediately felt tension thicken the air. To be honest, he had tuned out the human's conversation, but it was to hard to ignore them after broaching the dreaded subject. Everyone went silent and nobody was brave enough to look up from their plates.  
  
Shauna huffed in annoyance. "We all know we were gonna have to talk about this at some point, so we might as well just get it over with." She turned to Calem, her expression a strange mix of inquisitive and exasperated. "Are you gonna be nicer to her now, yes or no?"  
  
Calem sighed and began massaging the bridge of his nose with his fingers. He looked  _tired_. "...I don't know."  
  
She slammed her hands on the table. "Why  _not_?"  
  
" _Because_ , Shauna."  
  
"Because  _why_?" Shauna demanded.  
  
" _Because_  feeling guilty doesn't necessarily make someone a good person," Calem snapped, making an emphatic gesture with his hand. “Aside from her uncertainty about being able to keep her starter alive, she’s yet to demonstrate any other redeeming qualities. For all  _I_  know, the only reason she's worried about Delphi is because it would mean getting another starter."  
  
Delphi did not like where this topic was headed. From the look on Shauna's face, he could guess that neither did she.  
  
"Calem," the brunette said carefully, like she was explaining something to a toddler. Oncle had used that same tone with him all the time when he was younger, and that had been okay at the time, but time had passed and now it was just patronizing. Delphi wondered if Calem felt the same. "For the love of the Great Serpent, why do you feel the need to get on her case all the time?"  
  
"Maybe you forgot what happened two days ago, so let me refresh your memory— _she almost killed Alistair_."  
  
"She thought it was a Reaper Battle  _and_  she apologized."  
  
He scoffed. "That was  _not_  an apology."  
  
"Yeah. I  _know_. My mom had to make you apologize, even though she gave you  _plenty of time_  to work it out on your own."  
  
Serena did a double take between, and she could not have looked more  _done_  with their drama. "Are you guys  _seriously_  going to make me listen to three arguments in the span of one hour?"  
  
" _Why_  are you defending her?" Calem demanded. And was it Delphi's imagination, or did he sound a little offended? Hurt, even.  
  
"Because,  _unlike_  you, I don't judge people based on their low points," Shauna retorted. "Unlike you, I look deeper. Everyone has a reason for acting the way they do, and I judge people based on that. Not the actions themselves."  
  
" _Or_ ," Calem said, crossing his arms, "you choose to see the best in people, even if it isn't there. It's a little naive, Shauna."  
  
Serena let out an exaggerated sigh, like this was just another particularly exasperating day working at the lab. Like an intern had just messed up and she had to stick her neck out to fix it before Oncle noticed. At least, that's where Delphi recognized her expression from. "Okay, I guess that's an unsympathetic 'yes, Serena, we're gonna make you suffer today'. Thanks guys. You suck so hard."  
  
"Why are you being such a jerk?" Shauna asked, oblivious to Serena's deadpanned remarks.  
  
Calem gawked. "Just because I'm disagreeing with you, I'm a jerk now?"  
  
Shauna threw her hands up. "It's not  _just_  that! You've been acting like a total  _ass_  recently and I want to know why!"  
  
"Deesse, pourquoi moi?" Serena muttered, turning her eyes up to the ceiling.  
  
Delphi shot a glance over to Mint. "Why is everyone arguing with everybody? Is this normal, or...?"  
  
Mint flopped down on the table. Heavily—enough to make an audible  _thump_  against the wood. She sighed. "Celestine and Calem got into an argument over a battle. Or. Something. A'dunno the details. As for him and Shauna... a'dunno, they've just been on each other's nerves and all for while now. Dunno why, though."  
  
_...that's supposed to be helpful?_  
  
"As for Celestine herself," Mint went on, and Delphi perked up, because any information that would help him win Trainer over was need-to-know, "she may come off as a total bitch at first, but once ya get to know 'er, you'll find that she's only  _mostly_  a bitch."  
  
Delphi wondered how that comment was meant to be more helpful than the one before it.  
  
"I'm  _serious_ , Calem!" Shauna was shouting, her voice twisted and wobbling and breaking with something that sounded like  _deep_  hurt. "You blow us off during our lunch meetings— _especially_  on the last day, that was just  _insensitive—_ and then you go out of your way to focus on battling without any explanation! Like, up until last year, you were all like, 'oh I don't really care about that, it's way too dangerous'. Now you’re going on a Journey? Like, what the hell?"  
  
Calem, who had at first seemed unflappable in contrast to Shauna's obvious vexation, now seemed a little irked. "May I remind you that we're  _all_  going on a Journey? Not just me?"  
  
"...the point is that it's totally out of character! For  _you_!"  
  
Calem narrowed his eyes. "I don't have to justify myself to you, Shauna. My decisions are mine and my reasons are mine—mine to know and yours to keep your nose out of."  
  
Delphi looked between the two and wondered how on earth the two had become friends. Their appearances were quite different as well—one tall and fair and dark-haired with eyes like steel and plain, practical attire, and the other short and dark and brunette with bouncy pigtails and a rhinestone-studded shirt—as if the opposition of their personalities weren't reason enough for them to clash. If this was how they acted on a regular basis, how had they grown up together?  
  
"Mlle Celestine had better show up soon," Serena mumbled, eyeing the staircase with fierce hope.  
  
Maybe it was coincidence, or maybe Serena had a heightened sense of intuition, because Delphi's sensitive ears picked up the sound of footsteps coming from upstairs. He turned and before long, Trainer emerged, this time with a sleek black messenger bag slung over her shoulder. She was still dressed in her odd blend of bold violets and dusky shades from before, which only seemed to heighten the severity of her pale face. Those blue eyes of her looked like jewels, sparkling with a sort of coldness, as if unable to fully capture the nuances of human emotion. My, what a chilling thought, but Delphi couldn't help himself. She scared him, a little, what with the way she'd torn into him without regard for his delicate emotions, her tongue laced with acid and venom of the strongest kind. There were so many things about her that intrigued him, and of the many things he wondered, all he could think about now was how she might react to seeing him again.  
  
Apparently, the answer was apathy, because those jewel-like eyes of hers caught sight of him almost immediately—he froze up, felt a shiver of anticipation run down his spine, and he could see it now, the wave rising from the ocean, cresting, cresting, cresting,  _wait for it—_  
  
She turned away and said nothing.  
  
Delphi blinked. Wait, that was it? No huge outburst? No backlash? No driving-the-point-home speech? No "I'm-not-letting-this-go"? She was over it, just like that? How— Why— What—  
  
Meanwhile, Trainer had reached the foot of the stairs and Serena, noticing her, immediately leaped to her feet in what appeared to be relief. Because Serena had been sitting between Calem and Shauna, the two now found their conversation interrupted. Thank the Goddess.  
  
"Oh, Mlle Lavieaux," Serena said, a light laugh of relief creeping into her tone. "Thank the Goddess. I didn't think they would ever stop."  
  
Trainer paused in the doorway, her brows furrowing in confusion. "What are you talking about?"  
  
"Mom laid out some food for you," Shauna said, gesturing to the untouched plate of sloppy joe. "Once you eat and then Mom comes back, we can head out. Oh—wait. No, Dad promised he'd call. We need to wait for that call."  
  
"We can't wait around forever," Calem snapped. "Or—"  
  
A shrill ringtone trilled from Calem's pocket. He slumped back into his chair, throwing his head back with a groan. "Thaaaat's what I was afraid of." He got up and reached into his pocket to pull out a Caster. "Okay, I gotta take this or he'll never let me hear the end of it."  
  
Mint straightened. "Hey, Cal?"  
  
"Mm?"  
  
"D'ya think you could bring out Hayami?" she asked, an odd pleading note in her tone. "Y’know, maybe she and Delphi could, y'know, talk? Pep talk, maybe?"  
  
Trainer turned to Shauna. "Who's Hayami?"  
  
"You'll see," Shauna answered cheerfully, cryptically.  
  
Calem, meanwhile, seemed to be mulling over the request before he unclipped what appeared to be a Ball from his belt—Delphi hadn't noticed it earlier and, wow, didn't that just speak wonders about his powers of perception—and pressed the button. It split, spilled out light that manifested into a blue amphibious shape with a collar of white foam. She blinked open yellow eyes, fierce and vigilant, but she seemed to relax when she noticed that the atmosphere was tranquil. Delphi recognized her as a Froakie, one of the three species Oncle raised for new Trainers.  
  
"Konnichiwa," the Froakie, presumably Hayami, said gracefully. Her voice was lovely, Delphi thought, like a river of silk flowing over silver rocks. And she had accent that was quite similar to Trainer's, though hers was fainter.  
  
Trainer came over and dropped into her seat, blinking in astonishment. "You speak Kantonese?"  
  
Hayami smiled faintly. "Only some. My foster Trainer was Kantonese."  
  
Right. Delphi heard that Oncle employed some Trainers to raise and breed young starters for him, many of whom were former students. Foster Trainers often, but not always, owned the parents of the starter themselves, as had been the case with Delphi's own foster Trainer, who was currently one of Oncle's on-hand assistants, like Serena. As such, Delphi had spent his early life sheltered in the lab, though he wondered what Hayami's experience must have been like. A Kantonese Trainer--it sounded so foreign and exotic that Delphi couldn't help a thrill of envy. He'd never even been outside the lab's walls until now.  
  
"Really?" Celestine asked, intrigued. Delphi felt a pang of hurt, wishing she had shown that same interest in him.  
  
Calem, meanwhile, had stepped out to take the call and Delphi could catch scraps of an argument from outside. Shauna had not-so-subtly situated herself nearby the door to eavesdrop. And finally, Serena was gathering up the dirty dishes to presumably take the sink while shooting Shauna a  _thanks for saddling me up with the chores_  look.  
  
"How much do you speak, if I might ask?"  
  
"Not much," Hayami admitted. "Only a few one-word phrases, really."  
  
Not all that surprising, but enviable nonetheless. Delphi could understand both Common and Kalosian, but to learn a third language would be utterly  _divine_. Or, wait, was it her third language or her second?  
  
"That's okay. Your name is pretty, by the way," Trainer said.  
  
Hayami smiled, pleased. "Why, thank you. It means—"  
  
"'Swift water', right?"  
  
"Indeed." Hayami paused, eyeing Trainer scrupulously. "You are Lavieaux Celestine-san, aren't you?"  
  
A pause. Or, a hesitation? "...I am."  
  
"...if you don't mind me asking—"  
  
Mint coughed.  
  
The Froakie started before turning to Mint. "Oh. Mint. My apologies, I hadn't realized you were here."  
  
"I know." Mint grinned good-naturedly. "You were just doin' that thing where you forget there are other people around you, right?"  
  
Hayami hopped over to them, eyes lowered devoutly. "My apologies."  
  
"S'fine. But anyway"—Delphi nearly jumped out of his fur when Mint's paw came down hard on his shoulder, and she practically thrust him into Hayami, because, like Trainer like starter, right?—"this here is the new guy. Name's Delphi and he took a big ol' hit from my Rollout earlier and, well, he's still standin', so we know he's a tough lil' bugger."  
  
Hayami’s eyes went wide. “You used  _Rollout_  against him!?”  
  
Mint waved her paw dismissively. "Aw, it was an accident and the battle was stopped right away. He says he's fine. A'dunno." She turned to him. "Kid, do you feel like you've got a concussion?"  
  
"I, uh, already said I didn't." He wasn't sure how he felt about Mint calling him "kid", now that he thought about it. He wasn’t  _that_  inexperienced.  
  
Okay, he  _was_ , but he didn't want Hayami knowing that. She was kinda pretty... Not that mattered or...! Anything...  
  
"Anyway," Mint went on, "Hayami's been 'round for a few months. Almost, what, six or seven? It's June now, ain't it? Pah, I've been with my Trainer for years, but, well, a'dunno. Thought maybe you could talk to someone who’s been there, y'know?"  
  
Wow. Mint actually could be helpful. Who'd have thought?  
  
Hayami, however, was still focused on the whole Rollout thing. "Rollout is dangerous. Someone could have been seriously hurt."  
  
"Okay, okay, we don’t do it again. Chillax, girl."  
  
Delphi caught Trainer poking at her meal. "What the hell is this?"  
  
"Sloppy joe," Shauna hissed from the doorway to the backyard. "Now  _quiet_ , I'm  _listening_."  
  
"But how do you eat this?" Trainer asked, narrowing her eyes distrustfully at the plate of food.  
  
Serena had just finished putting the dishes in the sink and glanced up. "With your hands."  
  
"...I'm guess chopsticks aren't an option."  
  
"'Fraid not, Mlle."  
  
Delphi curled his tail around him protectively. Mint said Hayami had been around for a few months so, maybe...? He leaned in closer, whispering. "U-Um, not to be r-rude or anything, but I was... Well, I was wonder if you—if you knew anything about my Trainer. I mean, Mint does, so I... I just thought..."  
  
Hayami paused for a moment. She turned from Delphi to Trainer, then back to Delphi again, with the slow deliberateness of someone solving the last pieces of a puzzle, as if savoring the satisfaction of completion at long last. "And your Trainer is Lavieaux Celestine, yes?"  
  
Delphi hesitated, though he wasn't sure why. She was. Well, technically, but— Wait, "but"? ...okay, yeah, "but". "But" they hadn't really bonded yet, and, well, he really classified a starter-Trainer relationship by the shared bond. "But" then again, they had just met once, so maybe time would...? Okay, he hoped they got closer, "but" yes.  
  
Yes, she was his Trainer, at least until she proved otherwise. He nodded.  
  
Trainer was, meanwhile, scowling down at her sloppy joe like something had crawled onto her plate and died. "Please tell me this isn't an example of typical Kalosian cuisine."  
  
Serena snorted a laugh, clapping Trainer on the shoulder as she made her way back to her seat. "Oh, Goddess no. This is Mme Gabena's brand of Hoenn hospitality."  
  
Trainer wrinkled her nose.  
  
"Well," Hayami whispered, "in my personal opinion, I know very little about Lavieaux Celestine and I do not see it as my place to judge."  
  
Delphi blinked in bewilderment. Oh, okay, that was... Well, frankly? Unexpected. Mint and Shauna and even Hayami's Trainer had all seemed so eager to proclaim their opinions and take sides, so he’d just assumed that Hayami would be like that, too. Evidently, he'd been wrong.  
  
"Oh." He shrank back, flattening his ears to fight back a flush of shame. It had been wrong to assume. "Sorry, I thought. Well, I mean, your Trainer's been just so... Sorry."  
  
"That’s fine," she replied, her tone tinted with amusement. "I know my Trainer can be rather opinionated. And he tends to form said opinions very quickly and based on little evidence." She paused, and here she spoke slower, her tone and expression turning rather solemn. "I have heard about the incident with my teammate and... while I am upset about his injuries, I was not present, so I do not understand the circumstances. And from what I've heard, I don’t think my Trainer fully understands it either. He can be rather... I don't want to say  _narrow-minded_ , but he is definitely prone to tunnel vision. I'd prefer to assess the situation myself and come to my own conclusions."  
  
Admirable as it was, Delphi didn't quite understand it. "But isn't it our job—a starter's job—to support our Trainer?"  
  
Hayami looked slightly amused. "Yes, we follow their decisions and support them in times of need, but we don't necessarily have to agree with every one of them. We are our own beings, after all, with capability for independent thought and possession of free will. We have a right to think for ourselves."  
  
Delphi was stunned. He'd never really— well, technically he  _had_ , but, well, he'd never—  
  
He opened his mouth, but to his great surprise, it was Trainer who said, "You make an excellent point, Hayami."  
  
The three starters jumped and turned to her. She and Serena were staring at them casually, like it was the most natural thing in the world.  
  
"You were  _listening_!?" Mint demanded, frazzled.  
  
"You're not exactly quiet," Serena said with a shrug.  
  
Delphi flushed beneath his pelt and shrank in embarrassment. It was kinda hard to hold a private conversation when there were people sitting right there, but. Okay, yeah. Point taken.  
  
Trainer folded her arms on the table and turned to Hayami. Delphi felt a cold prickle of disappointment rush through him, but wouldn't let it show. "For what it's worth, Hayami, I am sorry about what happened to Alistair. The circumstances... they're complicated and I really don't want to get into them right now. Another time. Maybe later. But, I mean, since you're the only one who's willing to actually  _listen_ "—she cast a not-so-subtle glare at the door Shauna was loitering nearby—"I just wanted to—"  
  
"It is fine," Hayami interrupted, and Delphi was stunned because where did she find the guts to do that when Trainer was so intimidating? Seriously, that gaze of Trainer's could freeze a tidal wave in its tracks. "Thank your apologizing, though. It is most appreciated."  
  
Well then. Delphi should probably just duck under the table and never come back out.  
  
"And Delphi," Trainer said, suddenly turning to him and he jumped, oh crud, what now, what did he do he was just sitting here, "I owe you an apology as well."  
  
All he could managed was an unintelligent, "wuh?"  
  
"It wasn't you I was angry with," she went on, and she wasn't looking at him. It was strange—when she'd been talking to Hayami, she was composed, resolute, like tempered steel. But this, now? This was something softer, something more malleable. More...vulnerable, almost. "It's... It’s mostly Sycomore-Hakase that I'm upset with. He just. He didn't really give me any warning or preparation." She froze, suddenly, as if coming to a realization. "Like I did with that battle. Oh, Birds, I'm so  _stupid_."  
  
Delphi wasn't sure what to say. Or how to say it.  
  
"Look," she tried again. Tried to be calm and collected, but she just sounded more desperate. "I'll admit, I probably should have checked your data a little more thoroughly. I didn't anticipate that you would be low leveled, and when I found out..." She heaved a sigh and sat back in her chair. "I was angrier with Hakase than you. It wasn't your fault. But I took it out on you. And I'm sorry. It was unfair to you."  
  
He still wasn't sure what to make of this. In all honesty, he hadn't been expecting an apology like this. What he'd been expecting was a "you screwed up but that's okay, we can get passed it" sort of apology. This, on the other hand, was an "it's my fault, not yours, I was out of line" sort of apology.  
  
Serena seemed surprised, too, but also pleased. She wasn't the only one, either. Mint grinned and Hayami nodded, apparently satisfied. Shauna had even torn her attention away from the doorway to cast Trainer a look of pride.  
  
"I just—!" Trainer tore a hand through her bangs. She appeared to do that when she was frustrated. "I wish Hakase had given me a... an instruction manual or  _something_."  
  
"Merde!" Serena exclaimed, shooting up from her seat and slamming her hands on the table. "I cannot believe I fucking forgot!"

* * *

"Forgot  _what_?" Celestine asked for what she felt was the umpteenth time.  
  
Serena continued to avoid answering her, instead focusing solely on rummaging feverishly through her purse and muttering the mantra of " _where is it, where **is**  it_" over and over and over again. Delphi was peering over at her, intrigued, while Mint and Hayami exchanged bewildered glances. Even Shauna had paused her eavesdropping to watch.  
  
The back door opened suddenly and Calem poked his head in. "Shauna, I know you were listening."  
  
Shauna shrieked and fell back in shock from the abruptness of his appearance. She stumbled, tripped over her own two feet, and landed squarely on her ass. Celestine was ashamed to admit it, but she had to cover her mouth with her hand to keep from bursting into laughter.  
  
"Shit! Calem, don't  _do_  that!"  
  
"Then don't eavesdrop," Calem deadpanned. He stepped inside and closed the door behind him. "Okay, we have to hurry up and get to Aquacorde."  
  
Celestine frowned. "What's the rush?"  
  
"Trevor is a punctuality whore," he said, like that in itself was a plausible explanation.  
  
She arched a brow. If she remembered, Trevor was the name of another one of Shauna's friends, if she remembered correctly. He had been that... well, Celestine hesitated to use the word  _geeky_  because of negative connotations, such as crippling social inability. Trevor did prattle a little, but otherwise, he seemed alright. They had gotten along well enough, at least until she'd battled Calem and Shauna to had to explain to him and her other friend, Tierno, why Celestine had acted the way she had and wasn't that just  _depressing_ , having someone advocating on your behalf when you were perfectly capable of doing it yourself. And she had fully intended to explain herself—Shauna had just beaten her to the punch, that's all.  
  
"And he and Tierno got bored of waiting, so Tierno dragged him window shopping," Calem went on.  
  
"Oh dear god,” Shauna gasped, horrified, as she leaped back up to her feet, like a chain reaction had been set off that would lead to the end of the world. Which didn't make sense, unless the laws of the universe had undergone a drastic change.  
  
But Calem nodded like he understood Shauna's train of thought, which was good for him, because, y'know, it meant they were on the same page for once. " _Exactly_. Trevor's trying to hold him back, but we'd better get there before he shops himself in bankruptcy." A brief pause. "Or falls over in exhaustion. Whichever one comes fir—"  
  
"Found it!" Serena shouted triumphantly. She held up a flat, red plastic device over her head like she was expecting a spotlight to shine down it and angelic voices to vocalize in the background.  
  
Calem blinked. "Um, Rena?"  
  
Serena ignored him and turned to Celestine, holding the device out to her. "Here you go."  
  
Celestine stared at it the same way she’d stared at the same way she'd stared at Serena's handshake earlier, like she wasn't sure what to make of it. Only this time, the gesture was a little less obvious. What was she supposed to do with...well, she had no idea  _what_  this was. I mean, it was just a  _square_. A red plastic square with some high tech looking black markings on it, but the only meaning she could gather was their similarity to Poke Balls.  
  
"...what is this, exactly?" she asked as she took the device in her hands. It was compact and wafer-thin, like a pair of scissors could cut it, only it was metal, not plastic as she had originally thought. And there was a suspicious line running down the middle... And a button...  
  
Serena giggled. "What, you say you're from Kanto and yet you can't even recognize their most famous invention?"  
  
Celestine mulled that over. Most famous invention? Well, Poke Balls, at least the very first ones involving apricorns, were Johtonian, and so was the Poke Gear, so that ruled that out. And the Poketch was Sinnohan, so, that was out too. The only thing Celestine could think of was the Vs Recorder, which this certainty didn't look like, unless the design had gone from wedge-shaped to square in the last five years.  
  
"Yeah, sorry, coming up blank here."  
  
"It’s your instruction manual," Serena laughed.  
  
What.  
  
Okay, this was... unexpected to say the least. Had Hakase really given her one? She’d just been joking.  
  
"Meaning what, exactly?"  
  
"Just open it."  
  
Celestine stared at it for a long before shrugging. Well, if it was from Hakase, that meant it was probably safe. Plus, what kind of person would she be if she just accepted things at face value? Might as well check it out. She pressed the button.  
  
The machine seemed to whirr to life. The top slid out to reveal an icy blue screen, which black text immediately rushed to fill. It looked like a menu screen, wait—species lists, habit areas by Route, search index. What the...? Great Birds was this what she  _thought_  it was?  
  
She scrolled down the menu and, sure enough, at the very bottom read the words  _Brought to you by the mind of Okido Samuel_.  
  
"Nanite kotoda," Celestine muttered. She turned to Serena and her shock must have showed, how could it now? Like, this wasn’t the sort of thing that happened every day. Or in a million years. She couldn’t actually believe that she had one in, her hand.  
  
Nanite kotoda.  
  
She held it up. "This is a PokeDex."  
  
Serena grinned. "Oui, Mlle."  
  
Shauna’s jaw dropped and Calem went ramrod straight.  
  
"A PokeDex," Calem repeated, dazed. "A real PokeDex. The Professeur... he gave you... Mon dieu."  
  
"That is so cool!" Shauna squealed, and she was bouncing up and down and up and down, her excitement literally palpable in the air around her. "I wish Sycomore had asked me to do a Dex run!"  
  
Celestine just stared numbly at the device in her hands. A Dex run. An actual task to go out and capture Pokemon from all over the region, collecting data for the sake of science and the advancement of Trainer safety everywhere. She could not imagine a bigger  _honor_. PokeDexes were only ever given to highly capable Trainers, and even then they weren't distributed to the main populace. Oh no, these only belonged to a painfully tiny fraction of experienced Trainers, with no more than two or three "Dex Holders", as they were called, in each region.  
  
She immediately regretted her earlier hostility towards Hakase, that wonderful man. Not only had he given her a starter and pulled strings to get her a licence, and now he was allowing her to a Dex r—  
  
"Oh, it's not a Dex run," Serena said, a little apologetic, shattering Celestine's train of thought. They all turned to her in shock. Serena blinked innocently. "Kalos's Dex run was completed years ago by one of my colleagues. No, all the slots are filled out. See for yourself."  
  
Celestine pressed "species list" to do just that. Scrolling through the list, she found that all the slots were filled, just as Serena said. It was a purely eclectic mix, of species that were as familiar to Celestine as the sound of her heartbeat in her ears, their Kantonian nature ringing true and strong, and then were those whom she had never seen in flesh in blood, but their names had reached her through the whispers of foreign Trainers who had Journeyed to Kanto in search of the origin of training. And then there were more still who were bewildering in their foreignness, their colors bright and beautiful. There was so much, so many, colors and elements and names, all stacked in a neat little row that she could scroll down at her convenience. It was almost dizzying how many there were.  
  
"This is just a computer interface," Serena explained. "It's all connected the computers back at the lab and the data is transmitted via the cloud. But you can access everything you need to know about foreign species and the like. Since you’re not from around here. The Professeur thought it would be as good an instruction manual as any."  
  
The Kantonian marveled at the PokeDex and considered—maybe, just maybe—not killing Hakase after all.  
  
"You are so lucky," Calem said. "I cannot believe the Professeur gave you a PokeDex. I would kill for one of those."  
  
"It’s not an actual Dex Run, y'know," Serena said.  
  
"I don't care. I would still kill for one."  
  
"You may not have to," Celestine said. She had been experimenting with the different features of her the Dex when she stumbled onto something rather, well,  _disheartening_  was putting it lightly. "It says here that the Dex is registered to you."  
  
Collective looks of shock emerged from the other three, and the starters immediately started whispering feverishly amongst themselves.  
  
Calem was blinking rapidly. "Wait, seriously?"  
  
Celestine thrust the screen in his face. "Your name is Calem X. Lafayette, isn't it?" As he snatched the Dex from her hands and stared at it incredulously, she asked him, "What does the 'x' stand for?"  
  
"Goddess," Calem breathed, and he stared at the device with newfound reverence.  
  
Shauna was attempting to peer at the Dex over Calem's shoulder, but he was six foot and she was five-foot-three and she was failing miserably. "Oh, wow, that is so cool! The 'x' stands for Xavier, by the way."  
  
"Shauna!"  
  
"Hey, your middle name is  _way_  less embarrassing than mine. Mine's  _Griselda_.” She wrinkled her nose. “Can you imagine anything more outdated?”  
  
"Well, if it makes you feel better," Delphi piped up, "my name is basically a rip off of my final evolution's name. My foster Trainer's nice, but he wasn't too original in his names."  
  
Celestine ignored them and instead turned her attention to Serena. "Why would Hakase give  _me_  a Dex registered to  _him_?"  
  
All eyes immediately went to the blonde, and Serena went ramrod straight. She bit her lip and stepped back, her voice conjuring a thousand broken beginnings—"well" and "that's" and "because" and "um" and "you see"—but no ending, never an ending. Finally, she sighed, her shoulders slumping, and it looked like a con artist shedding their guise.  
  
"It was supposed to be a  _surprise_ ," she muttered, and dove back into her bag again. In a matter of seconds, much quicker than her last attempt at foraging, she pulled—not one, not two—but  _four_  Dexes, all identical to the first. Celestine and Shauna exchanged twin glances of shock, and Calem just stared slack-jawed, as Serena began to activate them one by one. "Let's see here..."  
  
"Serie, how the hell did you get four"—Shauna did a quick glance at the Dex in Calem's hands—" _five_  PokeDexes?"  
  
Serena didn't answer the question. Instead, she placed her bag down and held the Dexes like playing cards in one hand, then took one of the Dexes into the other and held it out. "Here, Shauna, this one's yours."  
  
Shauna blinked. "Wait, I get one, too?"  
  
"Just take it!"  
  
Shauna did so happily, a huge grin splitting her face. Mint matched her Trainer's grin and leaped up onto Shauna's shoulder to get a better look at the Dex's screen. Calem was still staring in befuddlement.  
  
"And this one is yours, Mlle," Serena said, holding out another Dex. When Celestine sent her a dubious look, she sighed and waved it with a slight urgency. "It's  _definitely_  yours. I checked."  
  
_Well, so long as you checked_ , Celestine thought sarcastically, but she took the Dex. It was solid and cool in her hands and she memorized the feeling, promising herself that it was real and  _hers_. This was  _hers_.  
  
She activated it, and felt a flood of relief when she found her name listed under the owner's data.  
  
"The other two are for Tierno and Trevor," the blonde went on, pocketing the other two Dexes in her purse.  
  
"We're  _all_  getting Dexes?" Calem asked in bewilderment.  
  
"Yup. It was originally just gonna be Mlle Celestine, because she's not from Kalos. But then he heard that you were setting off at the same time and you and Shauna already have a couple of his starters, plus Trevor and Tierno assisted in the lab last summer, so he knew you guys were trustworthy. Basically, he pulled some strings and ended up ordering five interfaces instead of one."  
  
Shauna grinned up at Celestine. "Guess we got you to thank for this, huh?"  
  
Celestine didn't know how to respond.  
  
"You can't tell Tierno and Trevor," Serena said in the utmost seriousness. "It's bad enough that I wasn't able to surprise you all at once, but you cannot spoil it, okay?"  
  
"We'll try not to," Celestine said, trying not to sound condescending and mostly succeeding. Emphasis on  _mostly_.  
  
The sound of the front door opening caught everyone’s attention, and Grace-san entered the kitchen looking painfully tired, slumping against the doorframe with an exaggerated sigh.  
  
"Sorry I took so long, but Mme  _Dubois_." Grace-san massaged her temples with her fingers. "Great Behemoth, she needs to get a hobby."  
  
"Mom!" Shauna cried, rushing over to her and brandishing the Dex. "Look! Look! The Professor gave us Dexes!"  
  
Grace-san perked up as Shauna approached. "Did he really?"  
  
"Uh huh! Lookit!" Shauna started fiddling around with her Dex, displaying the screen towards her mother. Mint, at one point, reached her paw out to touch the screen and Shauna smacked it away playfully. "Silly Mint, Dexes are for kids."  
  
"Meanie," Mint jeered, sticking her tongue out playfully.  
  
Celestine glanced at Delphi from her peripheral and wondered. Calem rolled his eyes.  
  
"That’s amazing, honey," Grace-san was saying. "That's... That's really amazing. I'll have to call the Professor and thank him. It's really too generous."  
  
"Well, I wouldn't go  _that_  far,” Serena said warily. "Those Dexes don't exactly come without strings attached."  
  
For Celestine, this immediately sent up a series of red flags. She knew bribery when she heard it and was  _not_  about to jumping through hoops doing Birds-knew-what. Perhaps Hakase was not as generous as she'd thought. Perhaps she'd have to reconsider planning his murder.  
  
Shauna, on the other hand, seemed completely oblivious to the implications. "Who cares?"  
  
There was a trill from upstairs, something that sounded a lot like a Kalosian pop song Celestine had heard on the radio and thought was derivative and irritatingly repetitive, but Shauna had seemed like it, for whatever reason. That was probably why Celestine immediately glanced over at Shauna, who straightened at the noise.  
  
"Oh, that's probably Dad calling. I'll be right back!" And then she was up the stairs before anyone could say otherwise.  
  
"...she left her HoloCaster upstairs," Calem muttered.  _Typical_ , was the unspoken message.  
  
Celestine wondered how they could possibly be friends if he was this derisive. Shauna didn't seem like the type to put up with this type of crap. Neither did Celestine, for that matter. She had half a mind to--  
  
"That reminds me!" Serena exclaimed, cutting off Celestine's train of thought. The blonde started digging in her bag again, but this time she pulled out something that looked like Vs Recorder. Wedge-shaped, but flatter, with what looked like a hologram emitter. "This is your new HoloCaster. Brought and paid for, courtesy of Professuer Sycomore."  
  
"...did you forget this too?"  
  
The blonde balked. "Hey! You had a full-out verbal war with my cousin the minute you came down here. 'Scuse me for letting that take my attention."  
  
Okay. Fair enough.  
  
Celestine took the Caster from Serena. It was small and sleek and everything she'd heard it would be. The buttons were tiny—the whole  _thing_  was tiny. It was the size of her hand, if not a little smaller, and if she didn't hold it the right, she felt like it would slip right through her hands. The screen reacted to touch, but needed her fingerprint to be unlocked, at least according to Hakase. He'd told her about it when she'd been staying with him. It was everything he'd described, except—  
  
"...how do I turn it on?"  
  
"Button on the right side, dear," Grace-san said helpfully. She had pulled herself up a little straighter, though it was unclear if it was for her benefit or for theirs.  
  
Celestine turned the device on its side. Sure enough, there was a small white button with a tiny power symbol on it. She tried to hide a flush of embarrassment. "Oh. Right. Thanks."  
  
"Haven't you operated one of these before?" Calem asked, more incredulous than condescending, but a surge of irritation washed over Celestine anyway.  
  
"This is a new model, alright?" she snapped backed. "Why would I know how to operate a new model?"  
  
Calem arched a brow, looking genuinely bemused by her defensiveness. "Only the color and the virtual interface changes. The model itself is exactly the same as the first one from four years ago."  
  
"Shut up."  
  
He frowned, but went over to picked up Hayami and said nothing. Whatever. Prick needed to learn to keep his opinions to himself.  
  
She sat down at the table and began testing it. It worked about the same way Hakase had described it would—instead of a screen display, a hologram came up, and she could navigate using the arrow keys. Other than the hologram tech, it was fairly standard. No bugs or glitches or anything weird. "Looks good Serena."  
  
"Good. Oh, and the Professeur put his contact information in already, just so you know."  
  
Celestine pulled up said list of contacts. There were three listed—Augustine Sycomore, Lysandre Labs Tech Support (to register complaints or reports bugs, no doubt), and... Oh  _Birds_.  
  
"Who's 'Beladonis'?" Delphi asked, peering at the hologram. He was standing behind it, meaning he was reading it backwards—which was impressive, any other day of the week, but not today.  
  
" _No one_ ," Celestine answered as she snapped the Caster off and once again entertained fantasies of Hakase's death. Hakase had just  _had_  to put  _his_  number in there, didn't he? Never mind that the last thing she wanted was to talk to the  _warden_. She shoved the device in her bag, not even trying to be gentle. It was official. Hakase hated her.  
  
"...okay then."  
  
"On a less tense note," Serena said with an awkward laugh—an attempt to break the tension, "any idea what's taking Shauna so long? I mean, she's just saying goodbye, isn't she?"  
  
"Fathers are highly overprotective," Calem deadpanned. "It is a known fact supported by overwhelming statistical evidence and anyone who says otherwise either had a sucky childhood or is a pathological liar."  
  
_Wow_ , Celestine thought.  _Someone's got childhood issues._  
  
Serena stifled a groan, as if this was about to segue way into an idiosyncratic rant about overprotective parents—oh, Birds, please no, prolonged exposure to the sound of Calem’s voice was likely to make Celestine bang her head against the wall—but Grace-san seemed more amused than annoyed.  
  
"So how did your father react to you heading out, then?" she asked laughingly.  
  
"No idea. He'll probably call me when Evelynne tells him, but until then—"  
  
"Wait a second," Serena cut in. "You haven't told him?"  
  
"... _well—_ "  
  
"And you’re leaving your  _stepmom_  to deliver the news? Cal, that is low."  
  
"I mean, he was at work so— Oh, for Goddess’s sake,  _don’t_  give me that look, Rena. I've had to endure his lectures about Trainer protocol and tips and this whole rambling, back-in-my-day speech—for the past  _week_. The hell I was going to listen to a send-off speech."  
  
Celestine couldn't resist any longer. "Daddy issues?" she asked sweetly.  
  
Calem straightened, eyes flashing, but Serena was quick to slip between them, hands out held out to keep them both at bay. "If you start arguing, I swear to the Goddess, I'm taking both your Dexes back."  
  
They both shut up.  
  
Shauna came back down a second later, a glittery purse with a big bow thrown over her shoulder. "Okay, let's go, go, go!"  
  
"Right." Celestine pocketed the Caster and picked up Delphi—he yipped in surprise—and stood, holding her starter in her arms. "I feel like we've been here way too long."  
  
"Agreed," Calem said, abruptly leaving the kitchen and heading towards the door.  
  
"Wait up you jerk!" Shauna shouted, bouncing after him, calling a hasty "by Mom, I promise to call" over her shoulder. Serena rolled her eyes, thanked Grace-san for having them, and followed after them.  
  
Celestine was about to follow when she felt a hand land on her shoulder and jolted. She whirled around and was met by Grace-san's worried face. "Celestine, dear, can I talk to you for a sec?"  
  
"Okay?" She turned to the door. "Hey, guys, hold on! I forgot something!"  
  
She heard Calem groan.  
  
"Oh, keep your shirt on!" Rolling her eyes, she turned back to Grace-san. "What do you want to talk about?"  
  
"My daughter," Grace-san said, blunt, straight-to-the-point. "It's not that I don't trust her or anything, but she's just so..."  
  
"Impulsive?" Celestine deadpanned. "Hasty? Hardly think things through until she's knee deep in trouble?"  
  
"That's mean," Delphi said, shifting to get a little more comfortable in the cradle of her crossed arms.  
  
Grace-san, however, was not nearly as off-put as Celestine's bluntness as was Delphi. "Exactly. So I was wondering if you could look after her, while you're out on your Journey? Please? Just make sure she stays out of trouble?"  
  
"Shauna isn't the kind of person to get into trouble," Celestine retorted, as calmly as she could. "Not the dark kind, anyway. And even if she did, it's not my place to look out for her. If she's going to become a capable Trainer, she needs to learn to fend for herself, something every Trainer signs up for the minute they apply. You're her mother. Have a little more faith in her."  
  
Grace-san looked like she was going to protest, but then her face relaxed and she sighed, once again looking exhausted. For the first time, Celestine noticed the crow's feet pinching Grace-san’s eyes and it hit her that, for all her vigor, this woman was tired and getting older and that revelation is somehow the most shocking thing in the world. "...you're right. I should have more faith in her. It's her life, after all. I'm sorry."  
  
"It's... fine," Celestine answered in mild surprise. She had no expected Grace-san to concede defeat so easily. "But you don't have to worry about her so much. She can be kind of a ditz sometimes, but Shauna knows how to take care of her self. She's... y'know, feisty. And she can drag me around, which is a statement in of itself."  
  
Grace-san laughed. "True. Good luck on your Journey. And, at the very least, make sure she doesn't forget to call!"  
  
"Will do." Celestine turned and began to head to the door, but she caught a glimpse of a family photo hanging on the door—innocent enough—and paused. It must have been taken years ago, because the photo displayed a ten-year-old girl with a missing molar and brown pigtails that looked a hell of a like a younger Shauna, and on either side she was flanked by two loving parents who looked as though they hadn't yet caved from the stress of dealing with a teenager. They were all smiling, all content, even though they stood in front of a house marked "sold" and their eyes gleamed with hints of exhaustion that spoke of a long move.  
  
Yet they were happy, loving. They were close and loving and that much was obvious. It was years ago, but that much had not changed. And Celestine had intruded on that, had forced her way into this loving atmosphere and had darkened it with her cynicism, her ill temper, her impatience, picking fights with Shauna's friends—this family didn't deserve that, yet they had tolerated her, indulged her, made the best of it.  
  
"Grace-san..." She turned back to Grace-san, who perked up at the sound of Celestine's voice. "I... thank you for having— For putting up with me. I'm... I'm sorry for the inconvenience it must have caused."  
  
Grace-san arched a brow. "What brought this on?"  
  
Celestine shrugged.  
  
"You were fine, dear. Don't worry about it. Now go enjoy yourself."  
  
Celestine almost laughed. That was the  _last_  thing she was going to do.  
  
"Still—"  
  
"You'd better go," Grace-san interrupted. "Calem has almost no patience and even my daughter is getting antsy."  
  
"...right." It felt wrong to leave it like this, though. Grace-san wasn't her own mother, and she never would be, but she was as close to a mother as Celestine had right now, and it felt wrong to just leave without saying something— _anything—_ more. Or maybe Celestine was equally sucky with goodbyes as she was with apologies. "Okay then. I'll make sure Shauna calls."  
  
She didn't wait for Grace-san to reply before she left the house behind—this comely little structure, the embodiment of love and security and a good, domestic life—and out into the sun.  
  
"Are you ready to go now?" Calem demanded. He was standing with his arms crossed, foot tapping impatiently, with Hayami perched on his shoulder. Shauna and Serena were standing a little ways away, chattering, while Mint had taken residence on her Trainer's head once again.  
  
Celestine set Delphi down and nodded. The air smelled clean and fresh and kind. It was a shame to leave it behind. "Yes. Ikuso."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry, my writing tends to be rather character-driven, and so plot can sometimes take a backseat. Things will pick up a little more in chapter three.
> 
> Hayami's name means "swift water", btw. And since she has some Kantonian roots, she refers to people by their family names first and their personal names second, which is a thing in Kanto that parallels Japan.
> 
> French:  
> \- Oncle is French for "uncle". Like, what is with all these French words and their parallels with English?  
> \- Mme is an abbreviation for "madame" and Mlle for "mademoiselle".  
> \- If you don't know what "merde" means, it's a French curse.  
> \- Serena's exclamation at one point, "Deesse, pourquoi moi?", is French for "Goddess, why me?". I'll get into that in my next worldbuilding note.
> 
> Japanese:  
> \- Nanite kotoda = "Oh my god"  
> \- Ikuso = "let's go"


	4. World Building 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just some worldbuilding stuff.

**I.**

The Nature system, Happiness gauge, and EXP system were developed by a Sinnohan researcher named Prof. Meredith Holly (mentioned in the first chapter as Holly-Hakase). She was Prof. Rowan's wife and also worked on some of the more modern Poke Ball coding. In fact, she was on the team that worked to root out the Poison damage bug in the stasis system, thus preventing anymore Pokemon from dying of Poison outside of battle, as well as created a patch that allowed Pokemon to earn EXP points even after capturing another Pokemon. She died about eight years before the events of C'est La Vie.

 

 

 

**II.**

Certain moves are known for their lethality:

  * "Execution moves" like Guillotine and Sheer Cold. For all their inaccuracy, the sheer power of them are instant killers. They are banned from most sanctioned battles.  

  * Rollout and Fury Cutter, or at least they can be. Their deadliness grows as they are used more and the momentum builds. It has also been noted that the aura powering the moves grows unstable over time with repeated use. Experts are still trying to decipher why.  

  * High-crit ratio moves, like Night Slash or Slash. They tend to hit major arteries or major aura circuits (known as "aura spots") that hold a majority of the Pokemon's aura. An excessive loss of either aura or blood can lead to death.  

  * Toxic. While in itself a status move, add-on moves like Venom Drench and Venoshock can actually flood a Pokemon's system with toxins that can remain for a long, long time and can increase risk of cancer or ineptitude. The move itself deposits a dosage of poison that is in itself potentially fatal, and can be even more fatal depending on the user of the move (based on the Toxicity Scale created twenty years ago). The long-term risks have labelled it a killer, but there is also a glitch in the Poke Ball coding in which Bad Poisoning can linger after a battle and cause damage the way Poisoning used to. It happens very rarely, but it has happened, so Trainers must be vigilant and are advised to apply Antidotes after Bad Poisoning immediately.



 

 

 

**III.**

Pokemon do possess the capacity to comprehend human languages, but their lingual processor tends to be smaller than that of humans, so they can only comprehend one human language at most. In the majority case, this is Common tongue, the language that the majority of humans speak in order to communicate from region to region. There are some region-specific languages, such as Kantonese and Kalosian, which are referred to as "secondary" languages and most Pokemon don't often learn them, as most traveling Trainers speak Common and wild Pokemon often learn human languages through exposure from said travelers.  
  
The other prominent language spoken by Pokemon is what is referred to as the "wild tongue", a language that consists of unintelligible noises that, even today, experts have not fully translated. While use of the Common tongue among Pokemon has only been recorded as far as a few decades in the aftermath of the Blooming (i.e. the Great Kalosian War), but records of wild tongue have dated back as far as the earliest documents in recorded history. It is unknown how and why Pokemon suddenly developed the ability to comprehend human language.  
  
For Pokemon raised in captivity, however, this is an entirely different story. Captivity-raised Pokemon often do not have knowledge of the wild tongue, proving that it is, in fact, not innate. In fact, most Pokemon raised in captivity end up demonstrating a comprehension of both Common and the secondary language prominent in that region, though they very rarely become fluent in the secondary language.  
  
While there have been documented cases of Pokemon understanding all three—wild tongue, Common, and a secondary language—they are exceedingly rare.

 

 

 

 

 

**IV.**

I'm sure you've noticed by now that the various characters have been cursing to various gods and things, so here's a quick lexicon, or half a lexicon, of mythological figures that will be mention in various "oh my god" statements. I'm sure you will be able to guess who is who.  
  
**Kalos**  
  
**Le Filou** : The Trickster, a figure in ancient Kalosian lore that was said to have the ability to rip open worlds and pull things through magic rings. When enraged, the Trickster wreaked havoc on Kalos, so the two Alchemists teamed up to create a device that could seal the Trickster's rage. The "bottle" was given to the Kalosian Dynasty, the House Auberon, for safekeeping and vanished from history after the Blooming.  
  
**Alchemists** : Two entities who exist as foils to each other. The Alchimiste du Nord, or Alchemist of the North, is said to have learned the art of creation alchemy from the Goddess and served nobility, crafting castles and mansions from crystal and creating beautiful works of art. In contrast, the Alchimiste du Sud, or Alchemist of the South, was taught the art of destruction alchemy from the Grim Reaper, and served the farming class, flatting mountains and blasting holes in the ground so that steam could rise up. The Northern was said to be responsible for crafting the mountains and caverns in the north, while the Southern was to be responsible for the flat, humid climate of Southern Kalos.  
  
**Serf de Vie/Deeuse** : The "Hart of Life" or "Goddess". The main deity in Kalos, to whom various churches and shrines still exist. She is said to cast down blessings of longevity, good health, fertility, and kismet. There are various holy days and symbols connected to the Goddess, one of which is a "saltire", or an "x". According to legend, she was a champion of humanity and had various priestesses and oracles, all females, though none took a vow of celibacy due to the Goddess's connotations with childbirth and procreation. She is often called upon by midwives, doctors, apothecaries, and expecting mothers.  
  
**Ailes de Mort/Grande Faucheuse** : The "Wings of Death" or "Grim Reaper". The antithesis of the Goddess, the Grim Reaper is respected yet feared for their ability to cast down plagues of pestilence, famine, barrenness, and suffering. Unlike the Goddess, who receives various holy days and has an entire religion built around her, the Reaper is seen as more of a devil-like figure, and there is one day (Reaper's Hunt) dedicated to them as sort of a solemn reverence. Over time, however, this became the holiday known as Halloween, in which children dressed in costumes so that the Grim Reaper would not identify them.  
  
**L'Equilibreur** : "The Balancer", an enigmatic figure in Kalosian myth. It is said to maintain the land and keeps the Goddess and the Grim Reaper from clashing. Described as omnipotent and all-seeing, its following fell out of power after the Blooming (also called the Cataclysm) in favor of the Goddess. One of the few stories of L'Equilibreur that still survive is one claiming the deity could rip the earth apart, and other being that it swallowed Death whole in the aftermath of the Blooming. Interestingly enough, a similar figure called the "Watcher" exists in Alola that very much parallels the Balancer, which is odd because Kalos has had almost no cultural presence in Alola until recently.  
  
  
  
**Hoenn** *  
*These are mostly used by Shauna and her family  
  
**Behemoth** : A great beast who was said to be born of the Earth and wished to make the world hot and dry with magma. A sun and fertility god, legends claimed the beast used to be violent until the Great Serpent calmed its heart.  
  
**Leviathan** : A great beast who was said to be born of the Sea and wished to make the world wet and silent with water. A rain and fertility god, legends claimed the beast used to be violent until the Great Serpent calmed its heart.  
  
**Ziz/Great Serpent** : The patron god of the Draconid tribes, called either Ziz or the Great Serpent. It is a sky god and said to be a champion of humanity. According to legend, the Great Serpent defended humanity from falling stars, and then chose champions on which to join it in the ancient battles to calm the Behemoth and Leviathan. One legend claims that said champions often had four followers, which may have influenced the introduction of the Champion-Elite-Four combination, which was first made official in Hoenn.   
  
**Wishing Star** : A spirit who appeared in ancient times. According to legend, it arrived on earth in a falling star, which angered the Great Serpent, but was saved from the Great Serpent's wrath by one of its champions, who pitied the poor creature. In return, it offered humanity seven wishes, one for each day, before falling into a deep slumber.  
  
**Golems** : Defenders who were created to protect humanity from the might of the Behemoth and the Leviathan. They were put to sleep after the threat vanished and will awaken should the beasts ever rise again.  
  
**Colossus** : Said to have pulled Hoenn away from the Old Continent following the wrath of the Alpha/Maker. This figure is an odd blend of Hoennian and Sinnohan legend, leading theologians to believe that it was carried over by Kanto-Johto Crusades after Sinnoh religion spread to the sister regions. However, there is no evidence of the figure existing in Kanto or Johto.  
  
**Twins/Eon Twins** : The Brother and Sister, pagan gods worshiped by islanders. They are thought to be protectors of children and siblings. Also called the Twin Mirages.  
  
  
  
**Kanto** *  
*Mostly used by Celestine  
  
**Great Birds/Mirage Trinity** : Folk deities that represent the changing of the seasons and the balance of power. They are as follows, the Kocho ("ice bird"), Raicho ("thunderbird"), and Encho ("flame bird"). Following differs from area to area, some believing only in one, or only in two, or in variations, but most of these sub-figures can be cast under the original Trinity.  
  
**Genesis/Child/Christ** : Originally a Kantonian figure, it was adopted under the Sinnohan religion of the Alpha. Only exists in the Kantonian variation of the Sinnohan creation myth and is said to live on an island out in the sea, where life first began.  
  
  
  
**Sinnoh** *  
*Semi-universal. Sinnoh has a rich history of Imperialism and several Crusades to boot. Ancient Sinnoh discovered the New Continent and colonized it. These colonies would eventually fight Sinnoh for their independence and became the Kalos and Unova regions. As for Kanto and Johto, Sinnoh was just north, and launched several Crusades to spread what they believed to be the "true religion". When Kanto and Johto in turn colonized Hoenn, this religion was carried over. The same could be said for Alola when Unova overtook it temporarily. There are some sects in every other region today that still worship Sinnohan gods, but in some cases the religion has been altered and influenced by the native culture.  
  
**Alpha/Maker/God** : The high Sinnohan deity, said to have created the universe and all things inhabiting it, starting with Earth. According to legend, the first point of creation was the Coronet Mountain Range. Oddly enough, the Mountains are the oldest documented minerals in the world, which supports this story.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I forgot to add this in. I'm adding it in now.


	5. Extra 1: Fleur de Naissance

**Extra—Fleur de Naissance**  
(noun)

  * French for "birth flower"



 

 

Celestine had no idea how or why the Kalosian Route One was called a Trainer Route, because it was nothing more than a glorified garden. It consisted of a cobblestone path lined with topiary trees and vast flowerbeds, all bright and blooming like fireworks bursting out of the dark, fertile earth, colored rockets trailing green stems and tender leaves as they burst into bloom. Above, the sky was clear, candy floss blue, a few clouds in the distance like a frame around a picture, but otherwise unobstructed. The sun was glaring, gold, loosing a white corona, and it was overall beautiful.  
  
But that didn't make up for the fact that it was completely functionless as a Trainer Route.  
  
"Why is it called a Route if there aren't Pokemon on it?" Celestine muttered. "It should be a civilian's route, that's what it should be. Not wild at all."  
  
"It used to be," Serena said. She was walking alongside Celestine while Shauna and Calem chatted idly up ahead. "The towns, Aquacorde and Vaniville, were only a few yards away, but the wilderness between was hella rough. During the Crimson War, there was a training camp for soldiers. A training camp—right in the middle of two towns. Actually, Aquacorde got its start as a weapon manufacturing site and it grew from there, but that's not the point. But, after the war, the Champion had the Routes cleaned up, paved the wilderness out of Route One, set up rest stops for Trainers and healing centers in smaller towns without Pokemon Centers—just... made the region safer.  
  
"And Kalos flourished," she finished, a little wistful, a little abrupt. It was so jarring that it took Celestine a minute to realize it.  
  
"So what happened?" Delphi asked. He was padding alongside Celestine, mostly quiet, eyes constantly wandering around to take in the picturesque surroundings. But his ears were perked and twitching, always listening.  
  
Serena smiled sadly and sent a wistful look over to Calem and Shauna's backs. From this angle, their height difference was even more pronounced. "What always happens to a good king. He lost his crown."  
  
Ominous and foreboding. Celestine decided not to get into it. "But you can't just get rid of wilderness like that. What about the Pokemon?"  
  
Serena stopped and pointed. "See those walls over there?"  
  
Celestine followed Serena's finger to a tall grey wall, brick and stone, that rose some two maybe three meters high beyond the vast fields of flowers. She blinked, not having noticed it before, but now that she was looking at them, she wondered how she'd ever missed it. Beyond, she could make out a canopy of greens—darks and lights, shadows and shades, an entire stretch of wilderness painted against the candyfloss sky. As she watched, an avian shape took off in the distance, climbing into the blue expanse, like hope abandoning a lost soul.  
  
"Just beyond that—that's where all the wilderness went, Mlle. Or where we pushed them too, anyway. And for good reason. The Pokemon there are vicious, highly territorial, and they dont like people, which means they stay away from us, but if you wander into le Bois Sombre—that's 'the Dark Wood' for you, I suppose—well, you get the idea. You need League clearance to go in there, and even then..."  
  
Celestine had heard enough tragedies in her life to know where this was going. "That bad?"  
  
"The term 'Route One' usually given to starter Routes," Serena said solemnly, "But that's not how it works in the New Continent. In Unova, there's a bunch of stronger Pokemon that live off the coast of their Route One, which is luxury we don't have. They have the sea—we have walls."  
  
"That's all it takes?"  
  
"Most of the time." Serena blinked at her. "Never wondered why there were so many walls in Vaniville?"  
  
Honestly? Celestine hadn't.  
  
" _Shauna_ ," came Calem's exasperated voice up ahead. "For the love of the Alchemists."  
  
The girls and Delphi turned to see Shauna kneeling devoutly in front of a cluster of lovely chrysanthemums, Mint at her side, hands folded as if in prayer. Calem was standing over her, radiating impatience.  
  
"Uh, Shauna?" Celestine wandered over to the brunette. Shauna was just sitting there and it was... kind of unnerving. "What are you doing?"  
  
"I'm praying to my birth flower to give me luck."  
  
Celestine blinked. "One more time now?"  
  
Shauna sighed, arms falling, and looked up. "It's this thing in Kalos when you're starting a Journey. You take your birth flower—it can be dried or a charm, or even a picture—but anyway, you make a wish on it. It's good luck."  
  
"That sounds stupid," Celestine deadpanned. "You're not even Kalosian. Why aren't you doing some Hoennian ritual or something?"  
  
"I did. It's a ritual in Hoenn to sleep with the blinds open—so you can see the sky—and a glass of salt water on your bedside the night before, and then wake up to watch the sun rise. To honor all three gods."  
  
"That sounds even stupider than the flower thing."  
  
"Well, we're in Kalos, ain't we?" Mint said, cracking one eye open. "So it's a good idea to follow the customs of the place. Doesn't hurt any."  
  
"They do have a point," Serena said with a shrug. "It can't hurt."  
  
Calem gawked. "Hello! We've been procrastinating long enough!"  
  
Serena rolled her eyes. "It'll take five minutes, tops."  
  
"Then you can explain that to Trevor."  
  
"We will," Shauna said jauntily as she jumped to her feet. She turned to Celestine, eyes gleaming. "So, Celie, what month were you born in?"  
  
"Eh?"  
  
"Your birth flower is determined by the month you were born in," Shauna explained, even though Celestine already knew that. She'd had a Kalosian mother to tell her these things, after all. "Like your birthstone or your zodiac sign. Well, zodiac is more date-based, but you get the idea. Mine's chrysanthemums 'cause I was born in November, and Cal's is larkspur 'cause he was born in July. And... I can't remember what Serie's is, but you get the idea! So, your month?"  
  
"Ah, er, October...?"  
  
"That means your birthflower is marigold," Serena said. She pointed to a patch of gloriously bright orange-yellow flowers growing along the other side of the path. "There's some over there."  
  
"What exactly am I supposed to do?" Celestine asked. She still couldn't believe this was an actual thing.  
  
"Just, think of what it is you want to accomplish on your Journey or whatever," the blonde said, pushing her in the direction of the sunny blooms.  
  
"Well I'm going on ahead," Calem announced. "Have fun with your flowers."  
  
And with that, he charged down the Route, not taking a second to look over his shoulder or anything.  
  
Celestine glanced over her shoulder. Shauna had gone back to worshiping the Chrysanthemum Gods or whatever, and Serena was alternating between observing calmly and gazing wistfully in the direction Calem had left.  
  
Okay, so. This was a thing.  
  
"You gotta kneel down."  
  
Celestine blinked down at Delphi. He was sitting down, eyeing the flowers serenely, and for a moment he almost looked wise. Or maybe just subdued.  
  
She opened her mouth to ask, but, y'know what? The sooner she got this over with, the sooner she could leave. She knelt down, crossed her arms on her knees, and stared. What exactly was she supposed to do here, anyway? Make a wish, plan out her Journey? She already knew what her goals were, how this was going to play out, where this was going to end. What did flowers have to do with that?  
  
Well, her mother had told her about flowers, about their symbolism in Kalos, how they represented growth and prosperity and the ephemerality of life. Kalos became famous for their flowers, specially breeding and growing the plants with the brightest colors and the largest blooms, bred for beauty and notoriety. There was not a flower shop in the world that didn't see Kalosian flowers as a threat to their businesses, which was probably how the region had managed to almost monopolize the industry. But flowers held a special reverence in Kalos, an entire language and symbolism built around different species and varieties and colors, and Celestine had no idea how anyone could keep track of it, but it must mean something to someone because, well, it existed.  
  
She eyed the marigold plant warily. Its blossoms were brilliant shades yellow and orange and gold, the colors that gave it its name. They were gorgeous in their hue and their myriad, rounded petals, some deeply hued but fringed with yellow, while others were monotonous in their regal shades. But only half were in bloom, while the rest had withered away, black and brown and brittle, shriveling up in a way that was not flattering in the least, the heads dying to give way to stickpin seeds, a duality of black and white. She had a sudden urge to pick off the decaying heads—dead-heading it was called—so that new flowers might bloom in their place and the plant might regain its true regality and bold beauty.  
  
She had no idea where the desire came from, but she tamped it down. She shouldn't be wasting her time here.  
  
"Are you gonna say something?" Delphi asked. The calm air had gone, now, leaving him looking young and fragile, wide-eyed with delicate curiosity.  
  
"Not really."  
  
Celestine's mother had tried to explain the language of flowers to her once—it was a failed attempt, of course, being an inattentive, rash ten-year-old at the time with no appreciation for a culture outside Kanto's cradle, but she remembered her mother telling her about the symbolism of marigolds vividly, for some reason—when they had been at a flower shop buying a gift for one of her mother's co-worker's birthdays. Her mother had explained how, as a birth flower, they represented warmth and ferocity, the devotion of one to their loved ones, and to win the affections of someone through hard work. That last one was probably a sign. She really did need to work things out with Calem, for Shauna's sake if not for her own.

* * *

  
_"But they also have a darker meaning," her mother had told her, idly running her fingers over the golden petals. It had looked like she was petting a lion’s mane._  
  
_"Whaddya mean, Maman?"_  
  
_Her mother had straightened, brushing Celestine's bangs out of her face. "They can also represent jealousy, cruelty and... well, despair. Especially after losing a loved one. They are a griever's flowers, colibri. Keep that in mind. There is no strength without weakness."_

* * *

 

If these flowers were supposed to be the couriers of her hopes and dreams, the indications of her Journey, then what did that say about her fate?

  
Celestine stood. "We should get going."

  
"Okay." Delphi got up and stretched. "So what did you wish for? Oh, wait, you're not supposed to tell me. Never mind."  
  
She rolled her eyes. "I didn't wish for anything."  
  
"Why not?"  
  
"Because I don't see the point."  
  
"...can I make a wish, then?"  
  
She blinked, taking a better look at him. He really did look vulnerable, now, and disheartened, peering up at her meekly. She could understand, a little—their introduction had gone poorly. Her callousness, borne from frustration, had probably painted a poor image in his mind, and even though she had apologized, it would take time before he felt more comfortable around her.  
  
On the other hand, they really did need to get moving.  
  
"Another time, maybe. We're kinda behind schedule now."  
  
Delphi's ears drooped. "Oh."  
  
Great. Now she felt like a bitch. She sighed and knelt down. "C'mere."  
  
He padded closer.  
  
"Climb on up, kid."  
  
His ears perked. "Huh?"  
  
"My shoulder," Celestine said. "All that walking—you're probably tired, right? Climb on up. I'll walk for both of us."  
  
"You're okay with that?"  
  
"Do you think I would have offered if I wasn't?"  
  
Delphi blinked, eyed her warily, like she might unveil a set of razor-sharp claws and shred him into a tattered carcass of blood and fur if he gave her the chance.  
  
She rolled her eyes and picked him up. He yelped in surprise and placed him on her shoulder. His weight was warm, the fluff of his ear hot as it poked her in the cheek, and she had to mind her balance as she stood, but otherwise, it wasn't bad.  
  
"There," she said. She noticed Shauna starting to rise and Serena stirring. "Comfy?"  
  
"...yeah."  
  
"Then let's go."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My writing style fluctuates a lot. Goes from zany to poetic based on my mood. If I like a scene, it'll tend to come out more poetic. If I'm unmotivated, it'll be more comedic. I'm still trying to work it out.
> 
> Flowers will be a theme in C'est La Vie. Just telling you.
> 
> Colibri means "hummingbird". It's Celestine's mom's pet name for her. Oh, and "Maman" is basically French for "mama" or "mom", as opposed to the more formal "mere" meaning "mother" or "parent". Maman is just more affectionate and a characteristic of younger children.
> 
> Over and out,  
> Luna


	6. Chapter 3: Amitie (Part 1)

**Amitié**  
(noun)

  * French for "amity", "fellowship", and "friendship"



 

" _I wanna **save you** ,  
I wanna save you  **from the pain**.  
I wanna  **help you** ,  
I wanna help you feel the  **same again**._ "  
—"You're Not Alone", Marie Miller  


  
  
Calem had tried to warn her, but Celestine hadn't believed him and now she was sorely regretting it.  
  
They came to the middle of town and were greeted by a very angry ginger and a rather laidback dancer. At least, that summed up the encounter.  
  
Celestine hadn't found Trevor to be an intimidating figure when they'd met two days ago. He was an inch taller than Shauna, maybe, with a red of coppery hair that hugged his face like a helmet and a pair of wide grey eyes that were always curious, and weedy frame that left him pretty much overlooked. Plus, his fashion sense consisted of tweed, collared shirts, and sweat vests, everything that screamed shy, nerdy overachiever—bully bait. He'd been quiet when they’d met, a little disengaged but polite all the same. He had never once struck her as the violent type.  
  
Which was why it was so jarring to see be greeted by a version of the same boy, red in the face, arms crossed, his foot tapping wildly and his eyebrow twitching. It was like seeing one of those tiny dogs who you knew couldn't hurt you, but that didn't make their blaring barks any less daunting.  
  
"Forty-five minutes," he said when they were in earshot, his teeth bared in a scowl, the words enunciated in such a way that the syllables sounded particularly deadly, like stabbing icepicks. " _Forty-five minutes_. You guys made us wait for  _forty-five minutes_  passed the agreed time. You set us back  _forty-five minutes_."  
  
Shauna somehow found the balls to laugh jauntily in the face of his rage. "Geez, someone's eager to get a move on."  
  
"You guys did take a while," said the boy next to Trevor—Tierno. At least, that's what everyone called him. It was a stage name, according to him, because all great dancers had those, apparently. Celestine had attempted to ask his real name and just received a collective laugh of amusement in response.  
  
But, anyway, Tierno was Trevor's opposite in almost every way imaginable. Where Trevor was scrawny and pale, Tierno was tall and tanned and... well,  _wide_  was the best way to put it. His black hair was undercut and pulled back into a hipster-type ponytail, yet his dark eyes had a cheery twinkle in them that bellied that. For some reason, he was decked in myriad pastel shopping bags like a Christmas tree with ornaments, and Celestine began to understand why Shauna and Calem had reacted so strongly to news of their friend going shopping. It seemed like Tierno had an addiction in need of curing.  
  
"On the bright side," Tierno was saying, rooting through his bags (Celestine began to wonder if this entire Journey was just going to be people rooting through bags, first Serena with her purse and now Tierno with his shopping bags), "I got you the cutest scarf ever. Oh, and Serie! I bought you some really nice berets. And I got Calem this cool jacket, but I'll give it to him later, he was kinda in a rush---and I even got some stuff for you, Celie! You might have to get them fitted, though, 'cause I had to guess at your sizes, but it's the thought that counts, y'know?"  
  
Right. Celestine had forgotten that his demeanor was almost an echo of Shauna's.  
  
"That's... arigato," she muttered as he held out some bags for her. She took them reluctantly, wondering what fresh hell was waiting in them. The thought did count, sure, but she doubted he understood her clothing preferences.  
  
"Do you  _know_  far away the nearest rest stop is from here!?" Trevor was shouting, and Shauna sighed, massaging her forehead. "Do you  _know_  how long it takes to get there!? Do you not  _realize_  that, with this delay, we might not even make it there by  _nightfall_!?"  
  
"Then we get great view of the stars," Shauna answered, stubbornly optimistic.  
  
"Where's my cousin?" Serena asked pointedly. Celestine could understand, if not sympathize, with her frustration a little. Calem bitched about them holding up the line, then disappeared to do who-knows-what. Little hypocrite.  
  
"Oh, ah." Tierno scratched the back of his head. "He went to the healing center to pick up Alistair."  
  
Celestine frowned. "He had to wait two days to pick up his bird?"  
  
"Yeah..."  
  
"Were the healing machines glitching or...?" Healing machines were the most vital component in a Trainer's livelihood, and when they broke down, Trainer activity ground to a halt. Especially if that town was a Gym town. God, that was a  _nightmare_.  
  
But Tierno shook his head. "They only use those in big cities. They use Potion therapy here."  
  
Celestine blinked in bewilderment.  _Potion therapy? That... That doesn't make sense. Potion therapy just heals the physical presence of the wound, but then you have to wait another few days for the aura-circuits to repair themselves. Healing machines target aura, and aura therapy speeds up physical healing as well. Why use an out-dated method that only targets one when you could use a modern method that targets both?_  
  
"Yeah, healing machines are expensive," Serena explained, "so..."  
  
"You only have to buy them once," Celestine retorted. "And maybe pay for repairs every once in a blue moon. Every center in Kanto, official or otherwise, could afford one."  
  
Serena sighed in exasperation. "Well, it's different in Kalos."  
  
_Like everything else_ , Celestine thought, suppressing the urge to roll her eyes.  _But still... if they really don't have healing machines down here... I guess I can understand why Calem was so mad. Potion therapy can't treat everything like a healing machine can. If he hadn't gotten there in time and there had been internal bleeding..._  A stab of guilt went through her gut.  _Ugh, dammit, I really do owe him an apology, don't I? Still, I don’t get why he didn't put his bird in stasis... Or, wait, is that different here to?_  
  
Before she could ask, Shauna came and tugged Serena on the arm. "Serie, can you please give him the thing so he'll shut up about our lateness?"  
  
"The word is 'tardiness'," Trevor said, frowning, "and what are you two talking about?"  
  
Serena yanked her arm free (which was astonishing to Celestine because she hadn't been able to fend off Shauna's iron grip so how was Serena able to do that or was everyone in Kalos just super strong, did they put steroids in the food or what). "Dammit, Shauna, I specifically told you  _not_  to ruin it."  
  
"Special circumstances. Just make him stop ranting about punctuality."  
  
"Fine." Serena pulled the Dexes out from her purse. "The Professeur asked me to give you guys these. Be sure thank him when you get to Lumiose."  
  
Tierno's eyes widened, and some of his shopping bags slipped out of his hands to plop onto the ground. "Are those—?"  
  
"Dexes? Oui. They're all yours, boys."  
  
While Tierno continued to stare at the devices with undisguised awe, Trevor snatched up his with a fanboy-esque gasp and some rapid-fire Kalosian rambling that sounded a hell of a lot like a fan rant.  
  
"What is he saying?" Celestine whispered to Shauna.  
  
"I don't speak Kalosian so..." Shauna shrugged. "But I think it's something along the lines of 'oh my god Sycomore is the best I can't believe it'. That sorta thing. Trevs is a huge Dex nut."  
  
Celestine had heard that there were some people who worshiped the Dex as a harbinger to a new era, but she had never met one. There was something uncomfortable about the way Trevor was oogling over the Dex, like the way gamers glued themselves to their consoles, and it made her wonder what he'd thought when he'd found out she was from Kanto, the place from which the Dex had been unleashed into the world.  
  
_Maybe I'd better not mention Shigeru-san and Midori-sensei then..._  
  
"This is amazing," Trevor gasped, just as Tierno was starting to inspect his own Dex. "I might just hug you."  
  
Serena frowned. "Please don't."  
  
"Why not?  
  
"Because you'll end up with a face-full of my cleavage and no one wants to see that."  
  
"How is this even possible?" Tierno asked, still thoroughly perplexed.  
  
"The Professeur was going to give Mlle Celestine a Dex," Serena explained, "but then he decided to get the rest of you guys Dexes, because he's generous." A pause. "He insisted I emphasize on the 'generous' part, but, yeah. You can thank him and Mlle."  
  
Trevor let out a noise that was somewhere between a squeak and a squeal and, before Celestine knew it, she had a very emotional ginger clinging to her front like a wet towel.  
  
"What the—" Celestine seized up, eyes widening. She was highly uncomfortable with the whole touchy-feely thing  _in general_ , but  _this_  was  _waaay too close_. Because he was five-foot-four and she was six foot, his arms reached her stomach and his face was currently buried in her ribcage, so her breasts were  _just_  above his head, and he was mumbling what sounded like a thousand gratitudes into the fabric of her shirt and his breath was hot and  _oh god get him **off**_. “Shauna, what do I do? How I get him off me?”  
  
Tierno and Shauna shared a laugh while Serena arched a brow, puzzled by Celestine's reaction.  
  
"Seriously! What do I  _do_?" Celestine held her arms out awkwardly and made some wild, incoherent gestures with her hands (though she had to mind Delphi, and he was becoming stimulated by her agitated state). She had to tamp down a sudden surge of panic—when was the last time someone had hugged her, anyway? Must've been ages. She was so unused to it now that the simple act of touch, even laced with gratitude, was foreign and, well,  _invasive_. "Like, non-stick spray? Crowbar? What?"  
  
"Not a fan of hugs, are you, Celie?" Tierno teased.  
  
"Not when he can look up and see underboob!"  
  
At this, Trevor flew off her and rambled incoherently about how he was definitely  _not a perv_ , his face so red Celestine honestly thought he was going to have an aneurism.  
  
"You're not even wearing a shirt that's revealing enough," Shauna said, arching a brow.  
  
"That's not the  _point_."  
  
"What’s underboob?" Delphi asked, totally oblivious. Bless the poor, sweet, innocent angel that he was.  
  
"I'll tell you when you're older," Mint said cheekily.  
  
"No you won't," Celestine butted in, feeling an odd surge of protectiveness towards the little fox. But Mint smirked and she decided that, from that point on, she was keeping her starter  _far away_  from that Chespin.  
  
Unfortunately, Calem showed up around then, jogging over to them with a look on his face that looked  _almost_  apologetic, but Celestine had known Calem all of two days and had already determined that he wasn't exactly the apologetic type. Hayami wasn't on his shoulder anymore. Probably back in her Ball.  
  
"Sorry that took so long," he said once he was close enough. Then turned to the girls and blinked. "Oh, you guys are done with your flower thing."  
  
"Flower thing?" Serena drawled. "You mean the five-hundred-year-old tradition you chose not to participate in?"  
  
Trevor was still babbling about how he meant  _no offence whatsoever_  and he was  _really_  sorry and  _please_  don't hold it against him, he didn't mean  _anything_  by it.  
  
Calem took noticed of the ginger's flustered state and arched a brow. "Trevs, what's wrong with your face?"  
  
"What's wrong with yours?" Trevor fired back, bristling.  
  
"That's not... I wasn't teasing you. I was  _honestly_  wondering why your face was so red."  
  
"Well, you can't blame him,” Tierno said. "I mean, Cel's got a pretty nice rack."  
  
Celestine balked, her face flooding with heat, and Calem's brows rose in shock.  
  
"Agreed,” Serena said, narrowing her eyes at Celestine’s chest. The Kantonian suddenly had the urge to cross her arms over her bust and cover up—not that she was shy, she just did not like where this was going. "Like, what size are you? C? D? You're bigger than I am, at least, and I'm a size B, so."  
  
Celestine's face was probably the same temperature of the sun right now, could probably fry eggs and boil water. She could feel the heat radiating off her face and it was probably the color of a ruby, like full-on bright red like a poppy or a rose and oh my  _god_ , how did they even  _get_  on this topic of conversation!? " _Why_  are we talking about my breasts!?"  
  
Calem turned to Shauna, completely at a loss. "What happened while I was gone?"  
  
"It's... Just pretend it never happened," Shauna answered with a nervous laugh.  
  
Trevor seemed to have composed himself again, taking in deep breaths to ease the redness of his blush—in and out, in and out, almost gasping but not quite. "I still can't believe the Professeur gave us Dexes."  
  
Celestine wondered how the hell he could so easily pretend they hadn't just been talking about her cup size. Like, seriously, how the hell was she supposed to interpret that? Offended or grateful, she couldn't decide which.  
  
Calem opened his mouth to say something, closed it again, blinked twice, seemingly to realize it was probably best to just ignore that particular topic of conversation altogether. She could see it in his eyes—the exact moment he decided to let it go, and it strangely relieving, knowing he could do that, let things go, and Celestine wasn't exactly sure why.  
  
Whatever. At the very least, she was grateful he wasn't going to pursue it.  
  
"Yeah," Calem said with a slight, awkward laugh, "Me neither. But it is pretty cool, huh?"  
  
"Well, like I said," Serena said warily, "the Professeur's gifts are never as generous as they seem. There's always strings attached and these are no exception."  
  
"Oh, it can't be  _that_  bad,” Tierno said with a dismissive wave. "I mean, the Professeur said the same thing about giving Mint to Shauna and all he did was have Celestine stay with her."  
  
Celestine wondered what the hell it was with everyone always bringing the topic back to her. Yes, she was glaring anomaly in the normalcy of their everyday lives, and maybe she  _was_  taking it a little personally, but  _c'mon_. She hadn't been  _asking_  for this sort of attention. When Hakase had said she would be staying in a small town, she'd been expecting her arrival to be quiet and seamless and for her to go completely unnoticed, for her to slip in discreetly without too much attention, hoped to stay out of everyone's way, to be in and out before anyone noticed. What she hadn't been expecting was to be thrust into a tightknit group, having disrupted the ties that bound this town---complex and interwoven like an Ariados's web, somehow beautiful but also something that was best left untouched, lest one found themselves hopelessly tangled in myriad sticky threads. As someone who had grown up in a large city like Viridian, where the labyrinth was one of streets and alleys and buildings rather than personal connections, she had underestimated the way lives overlapped and intersected so deeply in small towns like Vaniville, to the point where everyone knew everything about everyone and a city slicker like herself stood out like a teacup in a room of clay pots.  
  
Still, that didn't mean everyone had to constantly point to the teacup and remind her that she did not belong here, it was only temporary, and whatever place she'd had in the world was probably filled in by somebody else by now.  
  
_Okay, wow, Celestine, that was cynical and you need to focus on what's going on right now. You're almost out of here. Just bear with it for a little longer._  
  
"Well, these strings are a little more... tangled," Serena said.  
  
"Doesn't matter," Trevor responded fiercely. "I am going to repay the Professeur back in any way I can for this."  
  
"Hold that thought," Serena muttered doubtfully, under her breath and Celestine was sure she was the only one that heard it, and didn't that just bode well? The blond breathed in deeply, then announced, clear and strong, "Some restrictions have been added to your licences."  
  
Her announcement was met with stunned silence.  
  
Celestine didn't know what the others were thinking, but her own thoughts raced with fury. Restrictions? Was Hakase being serious? She was an experienced Trainer, sure, and she was flexible enough to deal with a few added rules, but the word "restrictions" sent dread stirring in her gut. He had already screwed her over by giving her such an inexperienced starter, expecting her to start from scratch and climb her way back up to the top. But the way Serena said "restrictions", Celestine could only think that this climb might be hindered by some rather cumbersome ankle weights.  
  
"The restrictions are different for everyone," Serena went on, "because the Professeur knows you all have different goals for your Journeys, so he's tried to accommodate that. So, yeah..." She cleared her throat. "First off, y'know how you can only catch one Pokemon per Route?"  
  
"To prevent poaching," Calem said with an undercurrent of suspicion. "Of course."  
  
"Well, now it's just the first Pokemon you encounter."  
  
Needless to say, the reactions were various degrees of shock and outrage.  
  
"So we don't even get to choose what we get to catch!?" Calem shouted and Celestine was, for once, in total agreement. While she did have a certain fondness for Hakase, respected him as an intellectual and as an old family friend, she couldn’t help but feel  _slighted_. First he gives her a starter he knew she was going to struggle with, then he limited her options for captures? He really wasn't going to make this easy for her, was he?  
  
"Unbelievable!" Shauna gasped, and she sounded a little hurt. Mint muttered something about Hakase's quirkiness and how it could often come back to bite you in the ass. Delphi hummed in what sounded like agreement.  
  
Serena started massaging her left temple. "Oh, that's not even the half of it. You also can't use stat-boosting vitamins, battle items, or an Exp Share."  
  
Okay, Celestine could live with that. The new-and-improved Exp Share seemed to take the gruel out of training and it felt too much like cheating to her, at least from her no-guts-no-glory Kantonian perspective. Same with vitamins. Only highly competitive Trainers enhanced their team through vitamins and steroids, and battle items were usually restricted to tournaments—unless that was different in Kalos, too.  
  
The others, however, reacted a bit more negatively.  
  
Serena bit her lip. "Guys, those are just the general restrictions. Like I said, you've all got separate, specialized restrictions."  
  
"Like?" Trevor asked warily. He seemed significantly less eager about this now that he knew the potential price.  
  
"Well, for starters... Tierno?"  
  
Tierno straightened, like a private being addressed by his lieutenant.  
  
"So, um, you know how Phillipe is a Water Type?"  
  
Tierno made the connection instantly. "I'm only going to be allowed to catch Water Types, aren't I?"  
  
"Water-Types and Dark-Types, yeah." Serena shot him an apologetic look. "At the very least, you get this thing called a token clause, so..."  
  
Tierno sighed, but made no protests.  
  
"And Trevor? Your restriction is that you can't use items."  
  
Trevor balked. "At  _all_?"  
  
Serena shook her head, and Trevor muttered about how he was going to have to be more conservative with his battle style and completely revamp his strategy.  
  
"Okay, next is Shauna—"  
  
"Just tell me quickly," Shauna said, eyes closed and bracing herself like someone was going to punch her in the face. Physically rather than theoretically. "Just rip it off, like a bandaid."  
  
"Do you know what the WonderTrade network is?"  
  
Shauna cracked an eye open and waited expectantly. Celestine could feel the air getting tenser as Serena went down the list and she wondered if the tension was going to be suffocating by the time Serena got to her restrictions.  
  
"All your captures from now on have to be WonderTraded," Serena announced with all the weight of a guilty verdict. "And no retrades."  
  
Shauna visibly deflated. Mint started cursing Hakase.  
  
Finally, Serena turned to Celestine and Calem, and the tension in the air was literally palpable, so thick it could be cut with knife, bleed all the ground. It could clog airways and asphyxiate and Celestine held her breath, determined not to choke.  
  
"Your guys' restrictions are pretty similar. You both have to catch the first thing you find on each Route, and 'gift encounters' count. You both get a 'Shiny Clause', which means that if you find a color variant, you can catch it, but it immediately gets sent to the Profeseur. Research purposes and all." Serena paused, letting that sink in, and to Celestine, that seemed pretty fair, but she had a feeling that Serena was not done, and boy was she right. "But that's where the similarities end. Calem has a dupes clause, which means if he encounters something he's already caught or an evolution of something he's already caught, he loses his catch for that area. And if you faint your encounter, Cal, you lose it. Sorry.  
  
"Celestine, you don't have a dupes clause, but you  _do_  have a second chance if you accidentally faint it. And before you ask, no, you  _cannot_  intentionally faint or run from your encounter. The Dex will know. Running is a forfeit of  _any_  encounter. Got it?"  
  
Celestine crossed her arms and decided she might be able to accept that. But only grudgingly.  
  
"And Cal, since the Professeur knows you're taking the Gym Challenge"—And here Calem tensed, expectant, waiting. Celestine suddenly got the feeling of waiting for a storm to hit, and even though this wasn't her restriction, she found herself empathetically anxious for him. Serena's nervous fidgeting wasn't exactly helping, either.—"after every Gym Battle, you have to WonderTrade off a member of your team."  
  
"What!?"  
  
"And it's got to be a member of the team you had on you when you beat the Leader," Serena went on, her voice so thick was apology that her Kalosian accent responded in turn, going from light and wispy to mildly unintelligible. "Not a boxed Pokemon or anything."  
  
Calem groaned.  
  
Serena turned to Celestine and opened her mouth, poised deliver the latest way Hakase had screwed her, Celestine, over, but the Kantonian beat her to the punch. "Just tell me I'm not using the WonderTrade net."  
  
"Um, no. You're kinda barred."  
  
"Okay..." Celestine had no idea how to access the Wonder net anyway, and she'd rather not make an account she wasn't going to use one way or another.  
  
"But you can't use TMs."  
  
And just like that, the world stopped.  
  
Celestine could process the information, she really could, it just got struck, somehow, between hearing and comprehending. TMs were vital to Trainers, a technological innovation courtesy of Unova's Cedric Juniper-Hakase, who had discovered a way to compress move auras into thin little disks almost fifty years ago when he was still a young man just out of college with a freshly-printed diploma. It had revolutionized the training scene, had allowed Trainers to diversify movesets and had become a precious resource in the strategy game, as well as eventually leading to the useful tool of HMs, moves that allowed Trainers to overcome obstacles that would have otherwise required mechanical assistance or would just have to be avoided altogether. HMs had been made sturdier because of their value outside of battle, but TMs were much more volatile, for some reason, and wore out quickly. The common misconception was that it was a marketing scheme until Alola's Kukui-Hakase found a way to successfully synthesize stable TMs six years ago.  
  
But, stable or non, TMs were a rather large cornerstone in a Trainer's livelihood and had been for a long time. To suddenly be denied that, and get thrown back into the dark ages of Trainer history---  
  
Comprehension complete. Reaction: outrage.  
  
"Is he out of his fucking  _mind_!?" Celestine screeched. She knew it! She  _knew_  Hakase was going to screw her over, but this was uncalled for. This was like placing her in a desert and telling her she had to build a skyscraper, but could only use the natural resources—no stone or steel, just the endless sand, beaten and dry and flimsy, to construct an architectural masterpiece. Except she couldn't work with  _sand_. She needed  _stone_  and  _steel_. How was he expecting her to pull this off, when the blueprints he gave her were incomplete?  
  
Serena held her hands up in an attempt to pacify her. "Look, I don't know the man's thought process. I just work for him. I can't tell you what he was thinking when he thought this up."  
  
"Was he high?" the Kantonian demanded.  
  
"No," Serena sighed.  
  
"Drunk?"  
  
A pause, then a more tentative, slightly unsure, "no".  
  
"Then he has no excuse!" Celestine exploded. She nearly threw her hands up in the air, were it not for Delphi's whimper, her screaming probably hurting his sensitive ears, reminding her that she had to balance a plucky little fox on her shoulder. Another "gift" from Hakase, a burden disguised as a blessing.  
  
"You're allowed to use HMs at least," Serena said, trying to sound optimistic and largely failing. "I mean, you can't use the move tutors, either, you can still use the move reminder! Anything that’s within the natural learnset counts."  
  
"That doesn't exactly make it better," Celestine snapped back. Birds help her if she ever got stuck with a Wynaut.  
  
"The Professeur wants to see how Trainers react to different scenarios," the blond explained, like that somehow justified this.  
  
"Rena," Calem said in an eerily flat voice that bellied the furious twitching of his left eye, "I am not going to be someone's guinea pig. I am  _not_  putting up with Sycomore's madness."  
  
"...the Professeur actually prefers the term  _'whimsy'_."  
  
"And I prefer the term  _'bullshit'_."  
  
"Look, I really am sorry guys," Serena said softly, and it  _did_  sound genuine, "but if you want to keep the Dexes, these are the conditions."  
  
Celestine could except that—if she was a Kalos native, like the others. They exchanged looks with each other, silently debating, but she didn't have that option. Like Serena had said earlier, this Dex was Celestine's instruction manual, something she desperately needed if a Kantonian like herself was going to make a foothold in Kalos. It was like giving air to breathe but stealing water to quench her thirst. Have one but not the other. Have your cake, but just sit there and stare at it until it goes stale—no touching, no eating.  
  
Air or water. PokeDex or TMs. If it were Kanto, she could make do, but this was Kalos, and it was different in Kalos. She had to choose the Dex or she was going to sink like a rock.  
  
"I mean, it could be worse," Shauna piped up, but her optimism was much shakier, not quite so solid. "It'll make my team more diverse, y'know? More interesting."  
  
"Right," Tierno agreed. "Water-Types are common, but they are pretty diverse! And Dark-Types are rare, so that's a plus. Promotes out-of-the-box thinking."  
  
Trevor painted a determined look on his countenance. "I can live without items in exchange for a Dex. It's a good deal and I'm not turning it down."  
  
Calem, though, was much less receptive to the idea of chaining himself to Hakase's idle game in exchange for a Dex, no matter how highly prized the device was. But he was considering it. Celestine could see it in his eyes, the internal struggle, stay on Hakase's good side or keep his independence as a Trainer? She had a feeling that he was one of those hotshots who thought they could make it big, if his ego was any indication, but the question was  _why_  he wanted to make it big. If it was a question of fame or a challenge, then the Dex and restrictions were easy solutions. But he was hesitating, so that meant it was probably a little more... personal. And Celestine was curious, despite herself.  
  
He must have noticed her staring—she hadn’t meant to, honest—and shot her a sidelong glance that nearly made her jump. "...remember how you said earlier that you wanted to kill Sycomore?"  
  
"Yeah?"  
  
"I officially give you my blessing." In other words: "I accept, but only if I get to watch him squirm".  
  
Celestine managed a wry smile. "Are we agreeing on something?"  
  
"Don't make a big deal out of it."  
  
Celestine almost snorted. She wasn't the type to make a big deal out of something so trivial anyway.  _Shauna_ , on the other hand—  
  
The brunette was currently exchanging a frantic, incredulous look between the two. "Okay, what is  _happening_  right now?"  
  
Celestine ignored her and started walking. She felt like she had stalled enough. "Let's head to Route Two, shall we?"  
  
"Wait up!" Shauna called out, and the others started off after her.  
  
Fucking  _finally_.

* * *

 

Route Two was just across a bridge, one that arced overtop one of the myriad pristine canals that zigzagged across Aquacorde and gave the town its name. Serena, in a rather tour guide-like fashion, informed the group that the canals at first only circled the town to ward off wildlife, having been built around the time Aquacorde was being settled, and the water all came from the nearby unnamed river that flowed alongside the Route (the only one these small towners ever knew, and thus appropriately named The River). The rest of the canals were merely aesthetic, and thus smaller than the border canals.  
  
Aquacorde was aged, beige-gold buildings and cobblestone, cafes and shops lining the streets, but beyond the bridge the change from civilization to wilderness was shockingly abrupt. Route Two was not like its cousin, the connecting Route of flowers and walls that had been tamed by human hands. No, this Route, the "Avance Trail", was green and bursting at the seams with wildness. A beaten, dirt trail wound through a glade of thigh-high grasses, all long and swaying and vibrant emerald, rustling with critters moving around—so tall and thick that the trail itself was barely discernible. There was no sweet smell of freshly cut lawns with these grasses, for they had never been cut with a mower, and heaven help the person that tried.  
  
To the west, The River ran clear and blue and strong, filling the Route with the soft sound of running water. To the east, trees enclosed it like an embrace, a wilderness that was vast and dark, lovely but not welcoming, bringing in the smell of loam and tree sap. The woods encircled the Route, and over the hills, Celestine could see the old dirt path, worn down by the footsteps of many Trainers marching on it up and down over decades and decades, winding into the mouth of the trees far beyond. According to Serena, that particular patch of the Santalune Forest was a bit tamer and more suited for beginner Trainers. It was probably why, even though the path branched off into the woods several times, that one trail was much more pronounced than the others, more Trainers defining it with their footsteps, going in and then coming back out again.  
  
They all stood on the end of the bridge, on the threshold of the wilderness, drinking it in. Celestine herself couldn't see the importance of this. She was an experienced Trainer with dreams to travel that had never been realized, but she had accepted that and moved on, never looked back in favor of something far more pressing. To her, this was like revisiting some old childhood memorabilia---the nostalgic wanderlust that had guided her as a starry-eyed twelve-year-old. It hit her hard, for just a moment, a sharp, overwhelming pang, but it passed quickly when she reminded herself that she still had a whole Journey ahead of her and she couldn’t afford to slow down before she begun.  
  
But to the others, it was far more momentous. Maybe not so much for Serena, who had taken civilian routes to get here and was not a Trainer by any stretch of the imagination, but the others were viewing with as a stepping stone to a long and wondrous adventure. Celestine could see the wanderlust that had gripped her as a child sparkling in their eyes, excited and eager. And even Calem, who seemed less prone to sentimentality, surveyed the landscape with enthusiasm.  
  
The moment was broken when Calem nudged Trevor lightly with his elbow. "Bet my capture will be better than yours."  
  
Trevor immediately straightened and his face blazed with competitive ferocity. "Bitch, you are  _on_."  
  
Calem flashed a taunting smirk before taking off into the grass. Trevor screeched about how Calem's long legs gave him an unfair advantage and followed after him feverishly, shouting something about he would not be outdone by a human skyscraper.  
  
Celestine blinked. "Okay, what the hell was that?"  
  
"Just guys being guys," Tierno answered in that lax manner of his. "They kinda have a friendly competition going on. 'Specially about this whole Journey thing. They had a bet on whether Trevor would catch a hundred Pokemon before Calem completed the Gym circuit." A pause. "Which they're probably gonna have to change now, but it's still the same idea."  
  
"Are they always this competitive?"  
  
"Sorta." It was Shauna that answered that, channeling all her nervous energy into swinging her arms back and forth while bouncing on the balls of her feet. "I mean, Cal kinda likes being challenged and Trevs is one of those smart guys who likes being right so, they butt heads every now and then but it’s always friendly. They're really close, like me and Tierny are really close."  
  
"Not that we're not close to them," Tierno added hastily, like Celestine might get the wrong idea, never mind that she wasn't personally invested whatsoever. "Just that they kinda bonded after Calem moved here—"  
  
"He's not from here?" Delphi gasped, making it sound like some big revelation when it really wasn't.  
  
"Calem and I grew up in Snowbelle," Serena explained. As she spoke, she stepped off the bridge, crossing that sacred threshold like it was nothing. To her, it probably was. "Like, next-door-neighbors-close-as-siblings type, but we were actually related. Then he moved when I was seven and he was eight. We still kept in touch, though, through video chat and stuff."  
  
"But anyway," Shauna went on, and she too stepped off the bridge, though she was a little more reticent about it, "the first person he met here was Trevs. And Trevs was kinda a fish out of water, too, 'cause he lives in Lumiose but he goes to school here, 'cause it's cheaper and his folks aren't too well off. Trevs'd kinda got into some trouble with a bully or something, and Cali, being a nice a guy, got involved, but, um, he doesn't fight unless he can help it—"  
  
"He ended up with a black eye," Serena interrupted. She traced a circle around her left eye as a visual. "I remember that. Nasty. Took a week to heal."  
  
"All three of them got in trouble," Tierno sighed, a little nostalgic. "Which was really stupid, because Trevs was a victim and Cal was just trying to do the right thing, but the teachers didn't really want to hear their side of it. To them, a fight was a fight. Shauna met them in detention and introduced them to me, and me and Shauna were already friends for a year after she'd moved. I mean, she was pretty sullen back then. I felt the need to talk to her and..."  
  
"I've tried to be extra cheerful ever since, though!" Shauna piped up, pouting a little but otherwise undeterred. "And I really felt for the guys, 'cause I could sympathize. And the rest is history!"  
  
"That's pretty cool," Delphi said. "I mean, you guys have been friends longer than I've been alive!"  
  
Celestine frowned at Shauna. "How did you end up in detention, though?"  
  
"Oh! A guy called Tierny fat, so I kicked him in the shin."  
  
"...that was your default reaction?"  
  
"I'm deceptively violent," Shauna chirped sunnily.  
  
Okay then.  
  
"Can I go with one of you?" Serena interrupted. "It's just, I'm not a Trainer and I don't really wanna be alone..."  
  
"Sure, Serie," Tierno said with good-natured laugh. "You can stick with me."  
  
"Merci," the blond said. With that, a small wave, and a promise to meet up later, the two headed off into the glade.  
  
"I assume you're gonna split off from us, huh?" Shauna said once they'd gone. She sounded oddly subdued, and Celestine wondered if it was the trip down memory lane that had mellowed her peppiness out, or the sight of all her friends splitting up to pursue separate paths.  
  
Celestine nodded wordlessly.  
  
"Okay, well, there's a rest stop a few miles from here that we were all gonna meet up at. Like Trevs said, we'll probably get there around nightfall, so, meet us there, maybe?"  
  
"Maybe," she said.  
  
Shauna smiled a little sadly, probably realizing that, from this point out, Celestine was planning to do this alone. Then headed off, waving in what felt like a goodbye.  
  
And Celestine was left alone, still standing at the threshold, no the verge but not yet having crossed.  
  
Which was exactly what she wanted. So why was she hesitating?  
  
_I've never been on a Journey before_ , thought the twelve-year-old Trainer in her, miraculously still alive after five long years.  _It may not be the best circumstances, but..._  
  
She took a step forward. And nothing happened.  
  
She let out the breath she hadn't realized she was stupidly holding and moved onward.  
  
Nostalgia hit her like a tidal wave as she picked her way down the path, the rustling of the grass and the whispers in the trees bringing back a flood of memories of when she was eleven and a Trainer without a traveling permit, standing at the edge of Route One and wondering at the sleepy town of Pallet that lay on the other side. She remembered how she'd go there everyday to train, reveling in the green wildness of the trees and the thick grass and the sky being unobstructed by skyscrapers, how she'd challenged beginner Trainers fresh out of Pallet, tested to see if they could make it in the big, bad Viridian City. Well, "big, bad" was a bit of an exaggeration, she supposed. Unlike other cities that blared with bright lights that dimmed the stars and streets cluttered with honking cars, Viridian was the "evergreen city", the amalgamated child of human civilization and Mother Nature, with ivy crawling up buildings and gardens flourishing in vacant lots and large, emerald parks and plants growing on the sills of every apartment complex. So perhaps Celestine's fascination with the wild as a young girl had stemmed from there, having grown up with the taste of nature on her tongue.  
  
The Routes had a different flavor to them, though, bristling with creatures and free of cement and steel, somehow beautiful in their hostility towards humans but tolerance of Trainers, who chose the hard road and never looked back. As a child, Celestine had always found the double standard fascinating, and had escaped from the city whenever she could to breathe in the sweet air. And the three Routes that fed into Viridian themselves were each different. Route Twenty-Two housed a grand gate of stone and jewels, steep cliff-faces that added a sense of adversity, reminding everyone that the Route was carved into the face of the mountains where the Elite and Champion awaited challengers. Route One, on the other hand, had always been more pastoral, farmers having made their livelihoods on either end of the Route, white picket fences lining the fields like a friendly embrace. And Route Two was somewhere in between the ferocity and docility of the two, the trees always restless and the path winding into the Viridian Forest, deep and dark and lovely.  
  
Kalosian Route Two was a mimicry of its Kantonian cousin, different only in the fact that The River shadowed its path, and beyond that Celestine could make out the grey asphalt of civilian routes that dodged the wilderness altogether. But if she closed her eyes, she could almost ignore it, and the sounds of the forest breathing nearby was so nostalgic that she had to find a rock and sit down, not trusting her legs to hold her up anymore.  
  
And just as the nostalgia left, she was greeted by a strong pang of homesickness and grief—mourning for those lost years, for a Journey that could have been but never was, for a childhood that was long gone, that had been  _stolen_  from her—  
  
"Trainer?"  
  
Celestine blinked. Delphi was peering at her with concerned amber eyes, the sunshine making his pelt glow a brilliant shade of yellow and his ear tufts orange like flames. If she closed her eyes, she might just imagine another shape—orange, reptilian, eyes blue-grey instead of amber.  
  
"Gomen, Delphi," she said. His name sounded a little strange to her, dissonant with the memory of her childhood. But this was the present and the past was long dead. Wishing and dreaming wouldn’t bring it back to life. Or anything—anyone—else, for that matter. "I was just... thinking, that's all."  
  
Delphi blinked at her, still concerned and a little nervous. Then, quietly, cautiously, "Are... you still upset because the others made fun of your breasts?"  
  
Celestine straightened, flushing and her face twisting into a vicious glare. " _Delphi_!"  
  
He shrank back, ears flattening, but he still muttered, "I'm just confused as to why you're embarrassed when you wear shirts with a low neckline..."  
  
Her face blazing now. “I happen to  _dislike_  shirts with a high neckline— Wait, I don’t have to explain anything to you!”  
  
"I was just—"  
  
"No, you were not 'just'  _anything_!" she snapped, standing up sharply. He yelped, fighting to cling on. And she thought,  _good_ , because he had  _no_  right to harass her. " _My_  clothing preference is none of  _your_  busine—"  
  
" _Be quiet_."  
  
Her brow twitched. The fox had balls, that was for sure, but he was messing with the wrong person. "You did  _not_  just tell me to  _be quiet_."  
  
Delphi's ears were erect and twitching, but it wasn't her he was listening to. "Shhh.  _Listen_."  
  
She did so, grudgingly, and immediately understood what he meant. Flapping wings sounded overhead, painfully close, and she tensed, remembering that her first encounter was now vital. Picking and choosing was no longer an option with Hakase's ridiculous ruleset. Whatever it was—and she hadn't had the chance to check her Dex for what lived around here, which was probably stupid of her—could end up being a member of her team.  
  
Her hand slipped into her bag, into small pocket of shrunken Balls that Serena had given her on the way here, all registered to her licence. She took one of them, marble sized, into her fingers and enlarged it to the size of a tennis ball as she pulled her hand back out.  
  
The flapping came closer, closer, closer, it was in her  _ears_  now,  _just above her head—_  
  
A weight settled on her scalp and it felt a lot like it had claws.  
  
"Um, Trainer?" Delphi squeaked.  
  
"...there's a bird on my head, isn't there?"  
  
As if to answer her question, a beige-brown feathered head, upside-down, appeared from above, staring down at her with coal-colored eyes set in dark stripes, with a pale beak making the majority of its face. It was definitely a bird, and one Celestine recognized with surprising ease. She hadn't realized  _Pidgey_  were native to Kalos.  
  
Nostalgia hit her again, whisking her away and then she was twelve again, back on the Kantonian Route Two, her and her partner Pokemon startling small groups of Pidgey for fun and laughing as they scrambled about with frazzled wingbeats and deafening squawks, and a few colorful human curses she would rather not repeat. But Pidgey were docile, for the most part, and never fought them back as would, say, and Spearow flock.  _God_ , that would've been a nightmare.  
  
"You're a Trainer, non?" the Pidgey on her head demanded. The Kalosian accent coupled with the image of the Kantonian bird was so jarring that it shattered Celestine from her reverie.  
  
"N-Nani?"  
  
The Pidgey scowled. Celestine didn’t think she’d ever seen such a fierce-looking Pidgey in all her life, especially since this thing was, like, two feet tall. "What the hell kind of response was that? I asked if you were a Trainer—yes or no, girl."  
  
A surge of indignation went through her. "Okay, I've heard  _rumors_  that Kalosians were rude, but  _wow_ , I was almost starting to think otherwise."  
  
The Pidgey frowned. "What's wrong with your voice?"  
  
Her  _voice_? "Excuse me?"  
  
"Your voice. Why are you talking funny?"  
  
Oh dear  _god_.  
  
" _Actually_ , Monsieur," Delphi interrupted, "it's just her accent. She's from Kanto, you see. Where she comes from, everyone talks weird."  
  
Was this seriously happening right now? A bird lands on her head, makes fun of her for the way she speaks, and her starter backs him up? Because if so, then that was really sucky way to begin a Journey. " _I_  don't talk weird. Everyone in this goddamn  _region_  has an accent. I'm the only one that  _doesn't_."  
  
"You roll your l's and they sound a little like r's," Delphi said.  
  
_Because there's no "l" sound in Kantonese_ , she wanted to scream, but frustration closed her throat up and she couldn't choke the words out. She was just so  _done_.  
  
The bird looked a bit more intrigued, now, though. "Kanto? Really, you're from the Old Continent?"  
  
"That's your business  _how_?" Celestine asked, and she really shouldn't be making a bad first impression, but, to be fair,  _he started it_.  
  
"I've always wanted to go. Apparently our ancestors came from the ol' OC." The Pidgey's head disappeared from view, but she could hear him prattling up above, like,  _go ahead, make yourself comfortable, not like I **need**  my scalp or anything_. "They migrated here after some other regional breeds showed up and displaced the old populations. Humans fixed it, but then we were all quite happy here and the rest is history. But I've heard tales, about sacred birds—'Winged Mirages', my pepe used to call them—and, Goddess, they were really something! Makes you real proud to be a bird, I tell you.  
  
"Your people know how to treat us over there! And I've always wanted to go and see the shrines for myself, pay my respects, y'know? Is it true that they're really the ancestors of all birds, because that would be  _awesome_. I mean, boasting that you came from gods? Well, I guess every other bird family would boast the same thing, which kinda makes it less special. Huh. I wonder which one I'm related too...” A paused, then the Pidgey's head reappeared, looking down with an upside-down frown. "Wait, why am I telling you all this? What are you doing here?"  
  
Words could not describe how  _done_  Celestine was at that moment.  
  
"You came to us," Delphi said with a frown. "And then you started talking about Kanto and... Honestly, you lost me at 'wing mirages' and I zoned out."  
  
The Pidgey snorted. "Not even paying attention. The manners of some 'mons, I tell you."  
  
"Why are you here!?" Celestine exploded.  
  
"Er..." The Pidgey's head disappeared again. "Oh, that's a good question... ... ...Damn! I don't remember!"  
  
" _Wonderful_ ," she said sarcastically. Her first encounter was a loony bird.  
  
"Just give me a second... It's on the tip of my tongue..."  
  
Celestine looked down at the Ball in her hand and considered just chucking at the grass, let luck take the wheel. Hell, she didn't care if she ended up with  _Bidoof_. It was more tolerable than this birdbrain.  
  
"Now I remember!" the bird exclaimed suddenly. "Quick, follow me!"  
  
Before she could get a word in edgewise, the weight on her scalp suddenly vanished, replaced by the sound of flapping wings. And then the sound was retreating, going, going, going—  
  
"O-Oi!" She snapped out of her stupor and turned to see his beige form vanishing into the treeline. Dammit. "Well, shit, there he goes."  
  
Delphi craned his neck in an attempt to follow the bird's path, but that wasn't going to happen unless he had Luxray vision. "Should we follow him?"  
  
"Hell no. We don't need him on our team."  
  
"But he was out first encounter, and Oncle's rules say—"  
  
"Also says I get a second chance."  
  
Delphi frowned at her. "It also says you lose your encounter if you run."  
  
"I didn't run though," Celestine replied. " _He_  ran from  _me_."  
  
"That's stupid."  
  
"No, Delphi, it’s a loophole. And loopholes are meant to be exploited."  
  
"So what happens now, then?"  
  
"...good question." Serena had said she would lose her encounter if she ran—from this, Celestine assumed that meant her Balls would lock, the way they would after a capture was made per area—but she'd never specified what happened if it was the other way around. Would her Balls still lock or did she have a second chance?  
  
"What are you just standing there for!?" Celestine jumped and turned. She could just make the Pidgey's head poking out of the treeline, glaring as he squawked at her from across the glade.   
  
"Get your asses over here!"  
  
She and her starter exchanged a bewildered glance. "Um," Delphi began tentatively, "should we...?"  
  
"C'mon, c'mon! Hurry up you Slowpokes!"  
  
_Only because Hakase really hasn't left me much of a choice_ , she thought as she stomped along the closest trail, this was incredibly faint and cutting straight through the grass. Though, it was more likely the grass had sprung up around it, taking full advantage of how unused it was. That alone was enough to make Celestine wary, but so long as she stuck to the Route and didn't try her luck with the woods, it should be fine, right? After all, weaker, human-friendly Pokemon tended to populate Routes, while the wary and hostile ones chose to isolate themselves in forests and caves and places only the plucky dared to enter.  
  
She stopped at the foot of a great hornbeam tree, its leaves thick and dark, branches long and heavy, roots stretching out in gnarled tangles like a twisted web. It was an impressive specimen, chipping bark hidden by a thick blanket of ivy, with brambles and bracken and ferns embracing it on either side. This was old growth, the gateway to an unforgiving place that was taboo to man. This was the part of the wild that did not yield to human hands and rejected the yoke of civilization. The creatures waiting beyond would be the same way.  
  
"Well, what are you waiting for?" Celestine glared up at the unfurling branches, just managing to make out the Pidgey's mottled head from the canopy of foliage. He was glaring back, radiating impatience. "Don't just stand there staring like a  _dumbass_. Get up here!"  
  
She blinked. "Wait, what?"  
  
"C'mon! We're burning daylight!"  
  
She held up her hand, blinking as she tried to process. "You... called me over here... so I could climb a tree?"  
  
"Ugh,  _humans_!" The Pidgey rolled his eyes, which only served to piss Celestine off further. "Look, I'd waste my breath explaining. Just get up here!"  
  
And with that, his feathered bird head disappeared into the blanket of leaves.  
  
Delphi turned to her. "...can you climb a tree?"  
  
"Not in these boots," she muttered.  _Really picked a bad day to wear heels. I know they're not practical, but they're comfortable... Damn._  "Okay, get off."  
  
"Wuh?" He bristled, panic and hurt flashing across his face. "Why? What'd I do?"  
  
She frowned at him. "I don't want you falling off while I take my shoes off."  
  
Instantly, he relaxed, his ears lying flat. "O-Oh. Right, yeah. I... For a second I thought..."  
  
"That I suddenly stopped liking you?" she asked, point blank.  
  
Delphi averted his eyes and said nothing.  
  
Celestine sighed. Oh boy, she was going to have to work on these self-esteem issues, wasn't she?  _Brilliant choice for a starter, Hakase_ , she thought as Delphi hopped off and landed to the ground, still meekly avoiding eye contact.  _Really, you picked a real winner. Everything I ever wanted._  
  
Once her boots were stripped and the grass was crunching and pricking beneath the soles of her feet, her bag at the foot of the trunk and the Ball in her hand now tucked away safely in her pocket, Celestine examined the tree a little more closely. The nearest branch was a fair ways from the ground, and even with her impressive-for-a-girl height of six feet, it still hung tauntingly far above her head. While she could grab the tips of the drooping foliage if she stood on the balls of her feet, that part of the branch was far from strong enough to support her weight.  
  
_Damn you Hakase_ , she thought, glaring up at the arcing branch, a little twisted and drooping low enough for her to snatch at if she jumped.  _This is all because of you and your damn rules and the damn lack of clarity. If you'd just been more clear, I wouldn't have to chase after this fucking bird._  
  
She leaped, her hands managing to grasp hold of the rough, firm wood. But gravity seemed determined to thwart her, the weight of her body straining her grip, and she hissed as the bark bit deep into her delicate, un-calloused fingers which were so not used to tree climbing and, dammit, she really needed to work on her upper body strength. She swung her legs, allowing them momentum to bring her lower body close enough for her to wrap her legs around the base of the branch.  
  
Thank god for lower body strength, which she had in spare thanks to her jogging habits.  
  
She heard giggles from below and looked down to see her starter with his snout buried in his paws, muffling laughter. She glared at him, upside down, which only made him laugh harder. "And what is so damn funny?"  
  
Delphi looked up at her, fighting back snickers. "Y-You l-look so silly!"  
  
"Do I," she said flatly.  
  
"Like a monkey!" he laughed.  
  
"Will you get up here!?" the Pidgey squawked.  
  
At this point, Celestine was only climbing up this damn tree to strangle that bird.  
  
"Delphi, stay down here and make sure nothing attacks."  
  
"U-Um." He placed his paw over his mouth again to keep his laughter at bay. "O-Okay..."  
  
With that, she turned away and began to pick her way up the hornbeam, her palms and feet turning raw from the continual scraping of rough bark, and she gritted her teeth each time she slipped. Once upon a time, she had been good at this, could dart up trees with speed that would make a Pachirisu envious, but it had been a long time since she had dug her nails into rough bark and strained her muscles in this fashion. She didn’t think a few years would leave her so out of practice, but, shit, this was harder than she remembered.  
  
Finally, after what felt like an eternity and a half, she finally managed to reach the top. The Pidgey was waiting for her, wings twitching with impatience.  
  
"What the hell  _took_  you so long?"  
  
"Oh, blow it out your feathered ass," she snapped back. "Now, you listen here—"  
  
"In a minute," the bird interrupted. "Up here, up here." And with that, he disappeared into the foliage.  
  
_Oh, yeah, I am definitely strangling him_ , she thought as she managed to haul herself up onto the branch he had been perched on. It was sturdy enough to support her weight, so she sat down on it, panting and wincing at the ache in her hands and feet. This was the last time she was ever climbing up a tree.  _Ever_.  
  
"There you are." The Pidgey poked his head out from the foliage—thankfully, on the same branch, so no more climbing.  
  
"Okay," she panted, "you had better explain or I swear to those 'Winged Mirages' you idolized so much—"  
  
"Che, che, che,  _che_. Keep your voice  _down_."  
  
"Are you serious," Celestine muttered.  
  
"Better," the Pidgey chirped. He motioned with his wing and she scooted over, actively fighting the near-overwhelming urge to wring the bird’s scrawny out in her hands.  
  
"What—"  
  
"Shhh." Before Celestine could scream out in frustration, the Pidgey brushed away a mass of leaves away with his wing, revealing, to her surprise, a nest of twigs and dying leaves, home to a miniature version of the bird—the underside of the wings still a little fluffy with down, eyes huge and filled to the brim with guileless curiosity.  
  
"Oh," was all she could manage. The Pidgey chick chirped, hopping onto the rim of the rim of the nest and stick its neck out to get a better look at this foreigner, this guest in its birthplace. It lost its balance though, teetering, and peeped in alarm—Celestine held her hands out to catch it without thinking, and marveled at the fact that it was small enough to fit in both her cupped hands, its feathers still downy and soft and new, its body warm and its heartbeat strong in her palms. "Is it yours?"  
  
The elder Pidgey squawked, as if offended. " _He_  is not mine. How old do you think I am?"  
  
"How old are you?" Celestine asked dryly.  
  
"Two years."  
  
"How old is the chick?"  
  
"Six months."  
  
"So it's a reasonable assumption."  
  
"Not in the least."  
  
Literally, the only thing that was keeping her from strangling him was the little chick in her hands.  
  
"No, look. The kid's folks? They were the strongest Pidgeotto on the Route," the elder bird explained. "Self-proclaimed protectors of us birds. They were often the ones leading the Bug hunts---and lemme just say that those stereotypes about birds always besting Bugs? Untrue. A  _hell_  lot of those suckers have poison and they're about the same size as us, so us little birds can't really handle them too easily. Only the evolved of us can really take care of them. Anyway, the kid's folks were pretty damn altruistic. Made sure everyone got their fair share, even the old timers like my ol' pepe, 'till he died last winter. Tragic, that. He was a good bird, loved to tell stories—"  
  
"The chick's parents?" Celestine pressed, sensing the Pidgey was starting to wander off topic.  
  
He blinked. "Right. Yes. Greatest birds on the Route, they were. 'Bout a month ago, though, poachers took 'em, made off with a hell of a lot of our evolved stock. Not just ours, either. Almost all the evolved 'mons on the Route vanished almost overnight. Dammed poachers and their stupid orange suits. Anyway, found the kid on the verge of starving a few days after the Sweep. I've... been looking after him since."  
  
She looked down at the chick with newfound sympathy. She could see it in his eyes now, if she looked hard enough for it—the sadness, that of a child who had lost something dear, had been stripped of everything they knew but didn't yet understand it. But he would, one day, and it would hurt like nothing else ever did or ever would ever again.  
  
_It must have been hard_ , she thought, _to suddenly lose your family, to get thrown into a situation you didn't ask for, strangers, your life turning upside-down on its head, a new region—_  
  
"There's no one else who can look after him?" she asked, pulling the chick closer to her chest. He chirped, nuzzling against her hand. Probably wasn't old enough to understand Common yet, just the wild tongue.  
  
"Nope. Which is why I called you up here." The elder bird hopped a little closer, eyes fiery with a resolve of shocking depth. "I'd like you to catch us both."  
  
She looked up. "Nani?"  
  
"For the love of the Goddess, yes or no, girl!"  
  
"I..." She shook her head to clear it. "I can't catch you both."  
  
"Why not?" the bird demanded, seething with impatience.  
  
"My Balls, those things that Trainers use to capture you? They'll only let me catch one 'mon per Route or area. I catch one of you, they'll lock and I won't be able to catch the other."  
  
The Pidgey scowled. "What kinda crap is that?"  
  
Celestine sighed. She had to agree, it  _was_  crap. "It wasn't my idea." She paused, eyed him suspiciously. Requests like this didn't usually come out of nowhere. "Why do you thinking coming with me is a good idea?"  
  
"Humans can provide for him better than I can," the Pidgey answered, his tone lightly tinged with sadness. "Simple fact. He'd have a better life as a pet or something than out here in the wild. It's brutal out here."  
  
"Is that why you want to come?" she asked.  
  
"Partially, I wanna look after the kid 'till I know he's safe, but I'd be lying if I said that was my only reason." He shrugged an avian shrug. "Like I said, I always wanted to see the world, visit places. And having a good Trainer only adds to the fun. Gym battles, Championship? Hell, yeah, sign me up. I don't want to spend the rest of my life here, just surviving. Wanna make an impact, y'know? Do something. Leave a legacy. Like the Winged Mirages!"  
  
To Celestine, that seemed somewhere between naive and hopeful and she probably was the last person to help achieve that dream. She was not pursuing Championship, or the League challenge, or anything of that kind. Plus, his rambling tendencies would probably drive her mad, but it was better than adding a baby onto her team. She already couldn't stomach the idea of dragging immature little Delphi on this Journey, there was no way she was stealing away a mere toddler from this Route. Neither option was favorable.  
  
"Like I said," she said softly, "I can only take one of you."  
  
"You didn't say that."  
  
She frowned. God, this bird was inattentive. "Yes I did."  
  
"No," the Pidgey protested, "you said you could only catch one 'mon per area. So, what if you caught us in two different areas?"  
  
She hadn't thought of that. That could work. She couldn't believe he'd caught that and not her, and maybe he wasn't totally stupid after all. "Okay, so I catch one of you now, the other in, say... Santalune Forest, and then give the chick away to a rescue center in the next town?"  
  
"Did you not hear what I said about Bugs? Hell no am I going in there." He ruffled his feathers, shuddering, as if envisioning death by millions of bugs. "The rest of the plan I agree with, though. Good plan. Very good plan. Minus the woods part. I don't want to die before I get captured, thank you."  
  
_Even if you do get captured_ , Celestine thought but did not say,  _there's no guarantee you'll live_. "So what do you suggest?"  
  
The Pidgey hummed thoughtfully, and the chick in her hands chirped. He chirped back, sounding reassuring. They went back and forth like that for a few minutes before he seemed to remember she was there and jumped. "Sorry, what was the question?"  
  
For the Genesis's  _sake_. "We'll figure it out later," she sighed, reaching into her pocket and pulling out the Ball from before. "So, which one of you am I---"  
  
"Catch the kid first," the elder Pidgey said, spreading his wings out. "I'll meet you on the ground."  
  
And with that, he took off and ditched her.  
  
"Wow." She glared down at the bird as he vanished into the foliage, like a fish diving into a sea of greens and browns, then sent the chick a pitying look. "Your caretaker is kind of a dick."  
  
The chick peeped.  
  
She sighed, held the Ball up. "I don't know if you can even understand me. Pokemon usually don't learn to speak Common until after they turn one year old, so probably not. But, look, what I'm going to do is put you in here"—she waved the Ball lightly—"and as soon as we get to the next town, I'm going to get you a good home. It'll be tough to adjust to, but it's for the better, okay?"  
  
The little chick peered up at her with guileless eyes and chirped twice. All of what she'd said had probably gone right over his little head.  
  
"For pity's sake," she muttered.  
  
She tapped the Ball on his forehead—was it her imagination, or did he lean in a little? The Ball split open and the little bird vanished in a flash of crimson light, as the tech connected his aura circuits to the anchor. A little red light in the center flickered, and the Ball quivered in her hand—almost all Pokemon panicked upon first interacting with the confines of a Ball, according to Sensei—and then went still. The metal warmed instantly with the pulse of life. She turned it over in her hands, admiring it.  
  
"Welcome to temporarily aboard..." She paused, thoughtful, but she couldn't think of anything creative. It had never been her strong suit, anyway, so she just went with the first name she could think of. "Max."  
  
Celestine pulled up the status screen and keyed the name in. Once she had, a message gleefully informed her that Max was now a fully-registered member of her party.  
  
Her work done, she looked down, saw the length of the tree extend out beneath her, twisted branches and the grassy ground, so, so far below her.  
  
She slid off the branch, and she fell.

* * *

 

When Calem found Celestine at the base of a hornbeam tree, one leg held out straight and the other curled up close to her chest, her boots and bag at her side like soldiers guarding a princess, a Pidgey on her head and her ankle twisted in an unnatural angle, he wasn't sure what to think.  
  
He'd been drawn by the sound of Kantonese curses, something only she could have been responsible for, and had been content to ignore them—except, there was a note of something more than anger this time around. It had sounded like a pain, and as much as he disliked her, Shauna would kill him if he'd found her bleeding or something, and it would be pretty crappy of him too. He wasn't  _that_  type of person. So he sent Alistair, his Fletchinder, ahead to warn Trevor he might be a little late ("C'mon, I just got out of the  _hospital_ ," the bird had complained. "You're the only one with  _wings_ ," Calem had retorted) and went to investigate.  
  
But, goddamn, he hadn't been expecting her to be actually injured.  
  
"Oh God," he breathed, stumbling a little. She looked up at him as he approached, but he was met with a glare from her, as if he were some unforeseen nuisance of some kind. Her eyes were wet with tears and spoke of silent agony. "Are you okay? What  _happened_?"  
  
"Girl jumped out of a tree," the Pidgey responded just as she opened her mouth to speak, and she scowled as he kept going. "Like, from high enough to break something. She's lucky she didn't. Y'know, break anything."  
  
A twinge of relief went through Calem, and he released the breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding. "You didn't?"  
  
" _No_ ," she snapped. "I landed on my feet, possibly cracked something, and dislocated my ankle, but no breaks. Nothing that bad."  
  
"Nothing that—" Calem decided that if all Kantonians were this intense, he was better off avoiding the region altogether. Good Goddess. "You need to go to a  _hospital_."  
  
"No, I don't."  
  
"Cel—"  
  
"Calem, as flattered as I am that you're actually  _worried_  about me, I'm in  _pain_  and your voice is  _really_  starting to grate on my patience, so please, by all means,  _shut up_."  
  
Calem clenched his jaw, caught between remembering why he didn't like her and worried for her well-being. Geez, what did someone do when someone they hated ended up hurt? "...can I ask where Delphi is?"  
  
"In his Ball because he was driving me crazy by freaking out."  
  
Yeah, he was definitely avoiding Kanto if he could help it.  
  
"You really should go to a hospital," he pressed, ignoring her livid glare when he broached the subject again. "I don't care what you say, this is  _serious_."  
  
"It's not that  _bad_." As if to prove to prove it, she flexed her injured leg, only to immediately pale and bang the back of her head against the tree, startling the Pidgey into the air. " _SON OF A FUCKING **BITCH**_!"  
  
"Yeah, it's not serious  _at all_ ," he said, but his sarcasm was heavily laced with concern and it ruined the comeback. He really didn't know what  _do_  in this situation. Helping her seemed like the right thing, but how was he supposed to help when someone was so  _opposed_  to the idea?  
  
"I'm  _fine_. I just..." She winced, sniffing and drawing leg back up to her chest. "Underestimated how much it was going to fucking hurt. Ow.  _Shit_."  
  
The Pidgey landed next to her, perplexed. "Is it normal for humans to do this? Jump out of trees and such?"  
  
"No," Calem answered, shooting Celestine a meaningful look. "It's extremely reckless behavior."  
  
He knew he probably shouldn't have pushed her buttons—the flash of rage, turning her eyes to sapphire flames, was exactly what he'd expected—but she was just being stubborn and he just wanted help, goddammit. But he wasn't expecting her to snarl at him, like an animal backed into a corner.  
  
" _Look_ ," she spat, "I'm fine,  _okay_?" And, to Calem's horror, she forced herself to stand, balancing herself with one hand on the hornbeam trunk and favoring her good leg, the other hovering over the ground and shaking at even the simple exertion. Like, this was not something you could just  _walk off_ , not like a sprained ankle or something. "Just grab my bag and shoes before I bash your face in."  
  
Calem did so, but not because she asked him to. He was taking her to a hospital, no matter what she said. When he turned back to her, however, he found that she was now standing a few feet away. The Pidgey, probably hers, stared at her in amazement.  
  
"See?" She kicked her injured leg. He winced at the click of bone meeting bone, but her supposedly dislocated ankle looked miraculously straighter---not perfect, just straighter---and when she lowered her leg again, it was able to support her weight. Some of the pain had gone from her face. Her eyes seemed to glow with blue light through the wetness of tears. "Totally fine. Hand me my stuff."  
  
He approached her tentatively, handed her her bag. She threw it over her shoulder, wincing only slightly from her leg. When he hesitated to do the same with her boots, she snatched them impatiently from his hands, scowling at him as if he was totally out of line.  
  
It was then that Alistair returned, swooping down to settle down on Calem's shoulder, seemingly oblivious to the presence of anyone else besides his Trainer. The sensation of the Fletchinder's sharp talons digging into the fabric of his jacket, just shy of his skin, made Calem jolt.  
  
"Your ginger friend is really pissed," Alistair reported. "You'd better get to rest stop before nightfall, or he might explode."  
  
"Oh yeah," Celestine said, wiping her eyes dry. The pain that once colored her voice so brightly was now pale, barely there. "Which way is that again?"  
  
"North," Calem answered automatically. "Just follow the Route. B-But you shouldn't—"  
  
He stopped. She was putting on her boots—she'd slipped the left one on easily, and was now having trouble with the right. It must have caught or something. She bounced on her left leg, her injured leg, in an attempt to stay balanced as she struggled. Celestine was  _bouncing on her injured leg_. No trace of pain, of breaks or fractures or dislocated ankles.  
  
She was perfectly fine.  
  
A numbness swept over Calem, following the realization. It settled in his skull and his chest and every cavity in his body, dissolved his thought process like acid, and all he could do was stare.  
  
Oh.  
  
Oh.  
  
_Oh._  
  
Oh  _Goddess_.  
  
"Calem," Celestine said, snapping him back to the present. She stood firmly on both legs, whatever tears of pain had been present now wiped away, gone. There was almost no trace of the agonized girl from five minutes ago.  _Almost_. Her eyes still danced with blue light, not as strong as before, mere embers after the fire had died out, but there, residual, fading but not done yet.  
  
Her voice was calm and steady, painless. She met his eyes, her own intense, firm, but almost pleading. "I'm fine, okay?"  
  
"Okay," he breathed.  
  
"I'm going to head to head to the rest stop, okay? Meet you there?"  
  
Eyes wide, he nodded wordlessly.  
  
She hesitated for a moment, looking like she wanted to say more. To offer an explanation. But then she turned and gestured to the Pidgey. The small bird scowled as it took to the air and landed on her head, muttering something unintelligible as she walked away.  
  
"What the hell was that about?" Alistair muttered. Then he noticed his Trainer's blank expression and concern flitted across the bird's face. "Hey, Calem? Seriously, what was that?"  
  
Calem didn't trust himself to answer. He just shook his head, helpless, and wondered what to do.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I guess you can tell I'm taking some creative liberties with all the characters here. Gen VI didn't do a great job with developing the characters and, honestly, Tierno and Trevor were pretty weak. Once I revamped them, though, I found them a lot more likable, so I hope you do too.
> 
> Sycomore is kind of known in the science community as being a bit... shall we say mischievous? But there is a method to his madness, as you will see soon enough.
> 
> First teammate get! Only took forever. And yes, the other Pidgey does join the team later, because I played without a dupes clause and thought I wouldn't have to worry about that. I was wrong.
> 
> I'm also kind of excited to introduce the backstory as to how the Kalos crew met. I really wanted to deepen their dynamic, and in experimenting with that, I ended up with this dynamic, and I really like it. I also liked delving into Cel's memories. I think that's my favorite part of this.
> 
> (There's also no "l" sound in Japanese, FWI. They merge the "l" and "r" sounds, so that's why Delphi says what he says about the way Celestine talks. Also, "pepe" is French for "grandfather")
> 
> As for Celestine and the thing with her foot healing... it's a mystery, which I hope you'll enjoy for the time being.
> 
> That's all,  
> Luna


	7. Chapter 3: Amitie (Part 2)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: This includes LGBTQ content and discussion, as well as discussion of parental figures and family life that's... less than ideal, shall we say. It's nothing too bad, but you've been warned regardless.

**Amitié**  
(noun)

  * French for "amity", "fellowship", and "friendship"



 

 

The sun was dipping low, turning the sky blazing ochre and The River fiery gold, when Celestine decided she needed to talk to Delphi  _before_  she got to the rest stop, not after. It was really out of insistence from Tanner—that was what she decided to call the currently uncaught Pidgey who had taken a liking to perching on her scalp and irritating her with his nonsensical chatter—that had forced her hand. His badgering about “how worried the kid must be” had brought to mind Sensei’s lectures about trust between a Trainer and their Pokemon, how the two must work in perfect synchronization, and for that to occur, there must be no secrets about them, a solid foundation built on trust and respect.  
  
She supposed it wasn’t too respectful to leave him worrying.  
  
Through the trees, she could make out a thatched roof in lovely pastel colors, a little faded but the eggshell blue was bright enough to stand out against the emerald mosaic of the woodland it was embedded in. That was the rest stop, she realized, and she either talked to him now or left him to worry throughout the rest of the night.  
  
She took a small detour that led her to the side of The River, where she found a nice rock large enough to seat herself on. While Tanner paused his meaningless chatter about why the Fletchling line was intolerably smug, realizing the deviation from their chosen path, Celestine unclipped Delphi’s Ball from her belt and pressed the button that would release him.  
He re-emerged in a flash of diffused crimson light, just as bristled and panicked as he had been when she’d busted her leg, his eyes so wide the whites of them were visible. The minute his guileless eyes settled on her, awareness of his surroundings flooding him and his expression, a new wave of panic washed over him.  
  
“Trainer!” he yipped. She winced at the register—shrill and grating. God, wasn’t the thing with her leg punishment enough? “Are you alright!? Where are we? How long was I—”  
  
“I’m fine,” she interrupted flatly, “we’re still on Route Two, and I kept you in the Ball because your panicking was extremely unhelpful. You’ve been in there for the last three hours because I’d hoped you would calm down.” Celestine stopped when he winced and flattened his ears against the back of his skull and averted his eyes, as if fearing for the lives of others was something to be ashamed of. “Hey. Okay, no. Delphi? Don’t act like that. Look, it... It was a bad idea on my part. Keeping you in the dark... It probably only worried you more, huh?”  
  
Delphi said nothing.  
  
She stood.  
  
“Delphi, look at me.” He peered up at her reluctantly, and his eyes immediately widened when he perceived her standing on both legs, completely unhindered. “I’m fine, okay? You don’t have to worry about me getting hurt. Ever. Okay? It’s my job to worry about you, not the other way around.”  
  
But the Fennekin didn’t seem to be listening. His amber eyes were fixed intently on her once-injured leg, roving it for evidence of injuries long gone, the mangled ankle and the place were the joint had popped from its socket, where the bones had been crushed and condensed by the impact. That part had been particularly painful and gruesome, and had healed just before Calem’s arrival, thankfully. Didn’t stop it from hurting, though. Thankfully, the pain had ebbed when the injuries had, when the bones had knit themselves back together.  
  
“H-How...?” he murmured. There was a confusion on his face—no, confusion didn’t really cover it. It was more like, a total lack of comprehension, a thousand theories swarming his mind but none of them fitting, none of them connecting. She could see it in his eyes. Eyes betrayed everything, after all. “How did you...?”  
  
_He doesn’t know_ , Celestine realized with a jolt, one that felt like a kick in the stomach, a shock that rippled through every nerve ending.  _God, Hakase, you... You didn’t tell him?_  
  
Her mind whirled the revelation, blurry and wild and incoherent and desperate, a wild hurricane raging against the rafters of her sanity, tearing, tearing, tearing.  _If he didn’t tell Delphi... did he tell **anyone**? Did... Grace-san know? Maurice-san? Shauna, her friends? Is that why Calem...  **looked**  at me, the way he did? Oh god. Oh Alpha  **almighty**._  
  
“Okay, um.” Celestine didn’t know what to do. This threw a kink in everything. She should tell him, but where did she begin? Hakase keeping this a secret didn’t make any sense. It shouldn’t matter—well, occasionally it did, and it was a... thing—but he’d never come across as the secretive type. Was he looking out for her, or his reputation? Either way, telling her starter, the Pokemon that would stand by her in this perilous Journey of hers seemed like a no-brainer. But to keep it a secret? Maybe he thought it wasn’t his place to say? No, he wasn’t subtle in the slightest. Neither was she, for that matter.  
  
She should tell Delphi.  
  
She should tell Delphi right now. Just come outright and rip the bandage off and let the chips fall where they may.  
  
“We’re almost at the rest stop,” she blurted out, the words burst from her throat and her voice acting on a will of its own, a will that was sneaky and dishonest and exactly the opposite of what she wanted to be. “I-I’m going to put you in your Ball for the time being, okay?”  
  
Delphi still looked dazed, somewhere between concerned and uncomprehending, and it caused his brows to furrow. “O...kay?”  
  
She returned him, watched as the light of his Ball dissolved flesh and blood into aura and code and claimed the resulting beam. When the metal shell snapped shut again, her legs quivered, as though the fractures in her bones were opening back up again. A hot numbness washed over her, a burning void expanding in her gut as if to swallow her up from the inside out. This feeling was not betrayal or shame or anything of the like, but it was also not that, a feeling that was somewhere between emotion and numbness, a horror and shock and fear that rocked her, the impact so great her entire skeleton was left vibrating. Or was there even a name for something like this, learning that someone she had trusted, someone who had done some much for her—even if he did seem to like jerking her around quite a bit, screwing with her to the point where it wasn’t funny anymore—would conceal something like this? Not from her, but from everyone around her?  
  
Things started to click. The reason everyone had interacted with her in such an easy fashion, not tiptoeing around her or minding her like she was some kind of aberration of the human race. It had been relieving at the time, to be treated with a sense of normalcy that would forever escape her, but now it made sense. They didn’t know. They treated her as normal because they thought she was. They thought that if her bones broke, they would stay that way. If she bled, the wound wouldn’t close and vanish like shadow chased by the sun. The revelation—they don’t know, they don’t know, they don’t know, they don’t know—it rocked her, rightly and truly. It felt too much like a betrayal, learning that Hakase hadn’t filled them in, had allowed them to perpetuate the idea that she was not beyond flesh and bone. It wasn’t a betrayal, though. Not really, just an omission, but the words felt like they might as well be synonymous at this point.  
  
Celestine covered her mouth, just in case. She felt sick, violently and suddenly, and she didn’t trust herself to swallow the bile rising to her throat in time.  
  
“Hey, Trainer,” Tanner chirped. He had left her scalp sometime when she was talking to Delphi, and he had perched himself on the rock she’d been sitting on. “You okay there? You look a little... green around the gills.”  
  
“I’m fine,” Celestine bit out. The sun was sinking like her spirit. It left fire in its wake, and beyond that, a crushing darkness that invaded everything and everywhere. And there were no stars yet to alleviate the feeling of asphyxiation. “We should get going. Night is falling.”  
  
“Okay then.” The Pidgey straightened. “Look after the kid. What’dya call him again? Max? Whatever. I’ll be sleeping on the roof of that building there. If anything happens to him overnight, I’m holding you accountable.”  
  
“Okay,” Celestine murmured, her voice barely a whisper.  
  
The sound of wings flapping alerted her that Tanner had taken off. She lingered near the water for a few minutes longer, the rush of The River echoing in her ears, before she picked herself up and started moving again.  
  
Besides, it’s not like it would make a difference anyway.  
  
But she couldn’t shake Calem’s face, pale with the realization of who and what she was, from her memory, either. She stifled a groan. Like their relationship wasn’t complicated  _enough_.

* * *

By the time Celestine arrived at the rest stop—a comely, inn-like building that reminded her of the Kalosian chalets she’d seen pictures of as a kid, only smaller and much more rustic—night had fallen. It was dark and beautiful, in the way it hid things that they eyes could not see, that the rustling in the grass might belong to some creature with crippling venom or a painful bite, or that the trees seemed to speak a language of their as they moaned in the wind. Somewhere between haunting and lovely, and worth admiring, but Celestine was more than happy to reach the yellow light of the building, the sanctuary in the wild. It was a little hard to believe this place could stand so tall and proud and unafraid of the night.  
  
The first thing she realized when she came in, aside from the fact that a bell was placed over the door that rang whenever someone came in, was that the group was already there. And from the looks of it, had been there for quite a while. They were all situated somewhere, quite comfortable in what appeared to be either a waiting room or a sparsely furnished lobby.  
  
Shauna was the first to notice Celestine’s presence and raced over to greeted her enthusiastically. Celestine had to smile and pretend she didn’t feel a little sickened by the amicability, the revelation of Hakase’s omission still rattling around in her head.  
  
Serena leaned casually over the front counter as she chatted with the receptionist, seemingly at ease in this homey environment, despite the dim lighting and the old-style furniture. Really, it was so rural that Celestine, city-girl that she was, thought she might cry when she saw the guns mounted on the wall and the fur-covered chairs and... were those Sawsbuck antlers over the fireplace? Never mind. She didn’t want to know. The only ting that was mildly pleasant to look at was the vase of starwort flowers and pear tree leaves on the front desk.   
  
Calem and Trevor had sequestered themselves near said fireplace, engaging in one their friendly arguments, by the looks of it, throwing playful jabs at one another in an attempt to see who would get riled up first. Tierno loitered nearby, intervening whenever he thought the boys were going too far and occasionally throwing his own two cents in, alternating between tamping things down and fanning the flames.  
  
Calem caught sight of her entering, and his eyes lingered on her for a second longer than usual. When she turned to glance at him, he averted his eyes and casually fired off something that made Trevor scream through gritted teeth.  
  
“What took so long?” Shauna asked, drawing Celestine’s attention again. Right. Interact with other people, pretend you’re not hiding something. Okay not  _hiding_ , just not broadcasting it. That sort of thing. Just—act normal.  
  
“I, uh.” Celestine shrugged. She felt weirdly twitchy. “I had to climb up a tree to catch a Pidgey.”  
  
Shauna laughed.  
  
Celestine blinked.  
  
Shauna’s laughter trailed off. “Oh, you weren’t kidding.”  
  
“Yeah, no.”  
  
“That sucks.”  
  
“I really didn’t have a choice,” Celestine said with another shrug. Was it weird that she felt like she was being judged? She glanced over at Calem, wonder if it was his eyes she felt on her back, but he was engrossed in his conversation-debate-argument-whatever with Trevor.  
  
“Hey.” She looked back over at Shauna. The Hoennian girl was peering up at her in concern. “You okay? You seem kinda... I dunno. Just, not okay.”  
  
“I’m fine. Just... tired.”  
  
“Okay, I guess I can understand that. Let’s go check in.”  
  
Celestine frowned as she followed Shauna to the reception desk. “You haven’t checked in yet?”  
  
“We were waiting for you. If we rent a room with two beds and a couch, we can split the cost so it’s cheaper,” Shauna explained as she came up next to Serena. The blonde turned as they approached, but the receptionist himself had vanished from his station. “Dunno what the guys are gonna do, though.”  
  
“You have to pay to stay here?” Celestine asked. That had never been the case with Pokemon Centers. You just swiped your Trainer Card and were given a free room, unless the Center was packed, in which case you stayed at a hotel or inn instead. But this was a League-sanctioned building, just the like the Centers, wasn’t it? So why would League Trainers have to pay to for something that the League sponsored and looked after.  
  
“Is that not how things work in Kanto?” Serena asked. On her other side, the boys were making their way over to the counter, seeming to have the same idea about officially checking in.  
  
“No. Centers are free. And if you have a Trainer card, you aren’t charged.”  
  
“You don’t have to pay for  _anything_?” Trevor gasped, like the notion itself was incomprehensible.  
  
“Not necessarily,” Celestine answered. “You still had to pay for items and stuff. And besides, Trainer Cards don’t pay for everything. Some establishments don’t take them.”  
  
“Like?” Tierno inquired.  
  
“Love hotels, for instance.”  
  
“What’s a—”  
  
“It’s a hotel where couples stay at to have sex.”  
  
Shauna squeaked and Serena flushed. Trevor turned bright red, Tierno frowned in confusion, and Calem muttered something under his breath about how he was definitely never visiting Kanto if he could help it.  
  
“Oh, come on,” Tierno said. “That is not a thing.”  
  
“No. No, it is.”  
  
“...huh.”  
  
Mercifully, the receptionist returned. He received them with a tired smile that spoke of a long day’s work and Celestine wondered if there were employees working under him, or if it was just him, managing this place all alone, keeping it in tact for the few Trainers that trickled down into the pastoral wilds. Most likely, this man only saw two types of Trainers on a daily basis—the veterans who traveled here in hopes of finding some reprieve, a break from strenuous training and a lifetime of battling, or the young ones who were just beginning their quests, starry-eyed and naïve, with big dreams and little sense.  
  
The check-in process went fairly smoothly, though Celestine would openly admit to cringing inwardly when she heard the receptionist talk, his accent so thick it left her struggling to understand him. Shauna managed to persuade Serena that the three of them staying in a single room wouldn’t be so bad and in no way compromise anyone’s personal privacy, to which Serena reluctantly agreed. Celestine still couldn’t understand the blonde’s trepidation—in Kanto, communal changerooms were normal at schools and rarely anyone had any qualms about changing in front of someone of the same gender, but it was probably different in Kalos, just like everything else was. Man, this was going to be a much bigger adjustment than she thought.  
  
The guys checked in first—Tierno ended up banished to his own room because, according to Calem, the dancer, quote, “snored like a fucking Pangoro”, unquote, to which Trevor heartily agreed. While they squabbled amongst themselves, Tierno trying to guilt them and only succeeding in getting Calem to roll his eyes, Shauna briefly explained to Celestine that once their Trainer cards were swiped and registered in the system, they doubled as card keys, something that pleasantly surprised the Kantonian because she’d only ever seen that technology applied in Pokémon Centers. Go figure.  
  
In the end, Tierno was booked for the solitary Room 15, Shauna had checked the girls into the spacious Room 12, and Calem and Trevor would be staying in Room 13.  
  
Though, there was one odd bit about the check-in process that had Celestine a little puzzled. It was when the receptionist had been swiping Calem’s and Trevor’s cards, and the man had stopped to squint at the screen.  
  
“Calem... Lafayette?” The man looked up, and there was something like reverence in his eyes, like a pious man in the presence of a god or an archeologist uncovering the find that would make him famous.  
  
Nothing changed about Calem, physically, no tension in his posture or wavering of his bored expression—but Celestine could suddenly sense discomfort thick in the air around him. It was there in the way his movements stiffened and became slower, more reluctant. He took his card, trying to subtly avert his eyes and seemingly trying to avoid fidgeting under the man’s rapt attention, muttering a muted “merci” before grabbing Trevor and all but racing out of there.  
  
When Celestine tried to ask Serena about it, the blonde shrugged and muttered that boys were weird.  
  
_True as that may be_ , Celestine had thought as she’d eyed the receptionist—he had been staring off in the direction Calem and Trevor had gone, with a mix between star struck and the same wistfulness that had colored Serena’s voice as she spoke of Kalos’s glory days,  _that explains absolutely nothing about what the hell just happened._  
  
And that was pretty much it. Everyone went to their rooms after that—Serena seemed a little agitated, though, as she swiped her lavender research assistant’s card—and no one spoke of the incident. Shauna, though, quickly slipped out to “inform Tierno”, and when she came back, Celestine could have sworn she heard Tierno knocking insistently on the door to Room 13, a hint of urgency in his voice. Shauna closed the door again before Celestine could catch any more of the conversation.  
  
The room was large and quaint, Celestine thought as she surveyed it, but it was obviously old. Someone had definitely taken the time to add things every so often, each piece of furniture seemingly from a different decade, but it did nothing to distract from the fact that the wallpaper was so faded that the pattern was no longer discernable and it was peeling a little in some places. Two beds rested on either side of the room, done up in pressed floral bedsheets, with a nightstand wedged between them and a large couch situated in front, where an old-looking TV was propped up against the wall, so that the occupants of all three could watch at once. In one corner, Celestine spied a teeny tiny closet and a while door that led to a bathroom that was twice as large as the closet but still very small.  
  
A vase full of starwort flowers sat on the nightstand, right next to the lamp. Pear leaves were carefully arranged on the pillows.  
  
Celestine walked over to one and picked up a single leaf by the stem, twirling it around in her fingers. “What is with all the plants everywhere? There was a bunch of these in the hallway, too.”  
  
“Language of the flowers,” Serena replied as she sat down on the couch and began to unpack her purse. By virtue of the Storage Key, a virtual storage application applied to almost all Trainer gear these days, you could fit just about anything smaller than the carrying medium without any fear of it getting cluttered. Thousands of things could fit, maybe a hundred or so Max Repels filed away in some little sphere of cyberspace without anyone being the wiser. It was the same tech that Poké Balls were developed with, though lacking the aura-infusion overlay. “The starwort means ‘welcome to a stranger’ and the pear leaves mean ‘comfort’.”  
  
“...seriously?”  
  
“It’s Kalos tradition.” Serena glanced up. “Why? Does it bother you?”  
  
Celestine’s thoughts flashed back to the marigolds, their representation of grief, and she thought of Hakase’s omission and Calem’s wide eyes as he observed her healing leg. She thought of her Maman, knelt over rows upon rows of potted plants in the nursery, face turned down and inky bangs falling in her face, her curling Kalosian accent as she meticulously explained the meanings of every plant there.  
  
Celestine twirled the pear leaf in her fingers one more time before setting it down on the nightstand, next to the vase of starwort. “...no.”  
  
Serena frowned.  
  
“Man, I’m beat!” Shauna exclaimed. She bounced over to the other bed and collapsed onto it, spread eagle, sending pear leaves fluttering through the air like confetti as she let out an exaggerated sigh. Comfort indeed. “That Route went on forever and that was only half of it! Y’know? Oh, I caught the cutest Zigzagoon. But I guess I’m not gonna be able to keep him, am I Serie?”  
  
“‘Fraid not, Shauna.”  
  
“Damn. I really wanted a Linoone. Their coats are so pretty.” While Shauna sat up, Celestine decided to start gathering the pear leaves on her pillows into her hands. “But I can’t even access the WonderTrade network until we get to Santalune, can I? What am I gonna do until then? Just use Mint? Sucky system.”  
  
“Wasn’t my idea,” Serena said tiredly. She stood, a pink camisole and a pair of PJ pants slung over her shoulder. “Okay, I’m gonna go change in the bathroom. Be out in a sec, okay?”  
  
“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” Shauna said dismissively, falling back into the plushness of her sheets and kicking up another puff of pear leaves into the air.  
  
Serena drew a faint smile and vanished into the bathroom.  
  
“Is it normal to be this modest?” Celestine asked. “Even if we’re all girls?”  
  
“The fact that we’re all girls is the problem,” Shauna answered idly.  
  
“Eh?” Celestine paused and glanced over at the lounging Hoennian. “Nase?”  
  
“Uh...” Shauna frowned. “‘Nase’ means ‘why’, doesn’t it?”  
  
Celestine set the pear leaf cluster in her hands over onto the nightstand. “Yeah. Sorry. Kantonese and Common are used interchangeably in Kanto. I need to work on that.”  
  
“‘S fine. I’m a total anime-nerd, so I’ll probably understand what you’re saying anyway.” Shauna sat up and started undoing the web of straps that made up her sandals. And Celestine thought  _her_  heels were impractical. “Let’s see... Why? Well, Serie’s touchy ‘cause,  _y’know_...”  
  
“I don’t, actually. Is it a Kalosian thing?”  
  
Shauna frowned at the suggestion, dropping her sandals over the side of the bed. They landed with a soft thump. “No, it’s a lesbian thing.”  
  
Celestine blinked. Once twice. What. “I. She. Nani?”  
  
“Well, I dunno if it’s  _all_  lesbians. I don’t think it is. But Serie’s always been super shy with her body image and stuff, y’know? She doesn’t like anyone checking her out while she’s getting dressed. Not that we’d be checking her out—she’s just kinda paranoid that way.”  
  
Celestine felt like her brain was breaking, stuck somewhere between processing the words “lesbian” and “Serena”. She sank to the mattress. It creaked subtly under her weight, the comforter adding an extra level of plushness and it smelled of old detergent, the kind without a floral scent to mask the smell of chemicals. “What?”  
  
“Why are you acting like this some big—” Shauna stopped and scanned Celestine’s expression. The shock and confusion must have been clear, because the hardness immediately slipped away from Shauna’s expression. “Oh, shit, you didn’t know, did you?”  
  
Celestine was still processing. “Serena is... she’s a lesbian?”  
  
“Ahaha, yeah.” Shauna threw her legs over the side of the bed to get a better look at the Kantonian, sheepishness written all over her olive-skinned face. “Sorry. I keep forgetting you’re new, y’know? I’m just so used to everyone knowing about us—”  
  
“Us?”  
  
Shauna froze, her eyes widening. She immediately looked away, curling one knee up to her chest. “Ahahaha, y’know what? This is probably crossing a line, so, can we just—”  
  
“ _You_  brought it up,” Celestine said.  
  
The brunette blew her bangs out of her face. “Fine. But if anyone asks, you forced me to tell you this.”  
  
“I’m okay with that.”  
  
Shauna hugged her propped-up knee and started swinging the other leg. “Well, okay, so. Me and the guys and Serie. We’re all kinda... Do you know what ‘queer’ means?”  
  
Celestine frowned. “As in a synonym for ‘strange’?”  
  
“That’s the  _old_  connotation,” Shauna responded, sounding oddly offended. “Now, it’s used to, um. Well, it refers to people who aren’t straight.”  
  
“Aren’t stra...” Celestine trailed off. She wanted to ask a question, but she wasn’t sure how to word it with it being misconstrued. “Ah, okay, this might sound weird—s-so, like, yuri and shonen-ai? I’m sorry if that comes off...weird. I dunno.”  
  
“No, no.” Shauna paused, lowering her arms. Her swinging keg stilled. “I mean, yeah, it’s kinda like that, but it’s a spectrum, y’know? Queer’s an umbrella term. What about LGBT—ever heard of that?”  
  
Now it was Celestine’s turn to be offended. “Of course I have.”  
  
“Okay, well, all five of us kinda fit into that category somewhere.” Shauna crossed her legs. “Like me, I’m pansexual.”  
  
The image of Shauna nuzzling a piece of cookware popped into Celestine’s mind. “Eh?”  
  
“It means that I have the potential to be attracted to a person regardless of gender,” Shauna explained, sounding very much like she was lecturing. Really, all she needed was teacher’s garb and a ruler and a chalkboard. “It does not mean that I am attracted to everyone or everything, that I am slutty, or I sleep with everyone I’m attracted to. I fall in love the same way everybody else does. I just don’t restrict myself based on gender.”  
  
“Okay.” Celestine made a mental note to never confide that mental image of Shauna and a frying pan. It seemed like it would be offensive. “That’s you, but... are they all...?”  
  
“Pansexual like me? Nah. Tierny’s actually like Serie. Y’know, into the same gender. And have you ever heard the term ‘aro/ace’?” Here, Shauna paused and waited for Celestine to answer, but all the Kantonian could give her was a slow-blink and a raised eyebrow. “It stands for ‘aromantic’ and ‘asexual’. It means that someone doesn’t really...get like that, y’know? Trevs is like that. And Cali’s bi, like, y’know. Guys  _and_  girls.”  
  
Celestine mulled the information over. Well, it wasn’t like someone’s entire personality were revealed to be this huge and elaborate lie and you could never look at the person the same way ever again. This didn’t change the fact that Shauna was still Shauna and Serena was still Serena and the guys were still the guys and Celestine still had to work things out with Calem. And from her rather limited knowledge on the subject of—queerness? Was that the right word?—no one actually chose their orientations. It was just how they were, and it shouldn’t change anything about them.  
  
It  _didn’t_  change anything about them.  
  
But she must have been too quiet and too contemplative, because Shauna began to look nervous. “Hey, um, Celie. This. This doesn’t... make you uncomfortable, does it?”  
  
“Eh? What?” Celestine straightened. “Oh, no, no, nothing like that. It’s not my place to judge. It’s just”—she paused, brushed a lock of ebony hair out of her face—“this isn’t really a conversation I’ve ever had before. I don’t know if I’m going to say something that might be offensive.”  
  
Shauna relaxed instantly. A faint smile touched her lips, and then it grew and grew and grew into a huge grin, and then she started laughing—a mere giggle at first, then it gradually escalated until it shook her petite form and she fell back against the bed, howling with laughter.  
  
“Shauna?”  
  
“Y-You s-s-scare me f-for a s-second!” Shauna chortled. She tried to sit up again, but she fell back down again and a couple of pear leaves fluttered up in the air again for a moment.  
  
Celestine felt like her brain had stopped again. What exactly was she supposed to do here, anyway? Just sit here and let Shauna laugh it out? “Eh, gomen nasai.”  
  
“N-No.” The Hoennian forced herself upright again, clutching her stomach, her face flushed and her eyes wet. “It’s fine. K-Kinda sweet, actually.”  
  
“Ari...gato?”  
  
At that moment, Serena came out, changed into what Celestine assumed was her sleepwear and her honey locks freed from her ponytail. “Hey, what’re you talking about?”  
  
“She was explaining your queerness to me,” Celestine said. Shauna yelped for her to shut up—too late. The words had already left her mouth.  
  
Serena’s reaction was instant. She rounded on Shauna with a fury that Celestine didn’t know the blonde was capable of, and had Celestine decided she’d rather stay out of Serena’s warpath. “YOU DID  _WHAT_!?”  
  
“Thanks, Celie,” Shauna muttered.  
  
“Is it that big a deal?” Celestine asked.  
  
“Yes!” Serena snapped, and pointed accusatorily to Shauna. “She outed me without my permission.”  
  
“A-Actually, I don’t think ‘outed’ is the right word,” Shauna said nervously.  
  
“Doesn’t matter! You crossed a line!”  
  
“She’s totally okay with it though! Aren’t you Celie?”  
  
“It’s really none of my business,” Celestine said. She got up. “On that note, neither is this conversation. I’m going to go change.”  
  
Shauna’s eyes widened in both fear and betrayal, but Serena waved her arm dismissively. “Whatever.”  
  
Needless to say, Celestine bolted into the bathroom as quickly as she could, keeping her head low because being so much taller than the both of them made her feel oddly exposed, and slammed the door behind her. She could still hear Serena berating Shauna through the walls.  
  
Celestine sighed and leaned back against the door. Now that she had a moment to herself, worrisome things started poking at her thoughts, hello, hello, forget about us? All the crazy things that had happened to day, all the ways she  _hadn’t_  imagined her Journey beginning. Before long, her head was spinning, and the entire day seemed to be trying to squeeze its way into her skull, every little bit tugging her this way and that,  _look at me, look at me, pay attention, I’m the thing you should be most concerned about_.  
  
Delphi’s horrible battle performance. Apologizing to Calem. The omen of the marigolds. Hakase making her jump through hoops in exchange for a PokéDex. Max and Tanner. Busting her leg and worrying Delphi and Calem finding out. Hakase’s omission, the way the receptionist had reacted to Calem’s surname, and now this added information that Serena was obviously sensitive about. How would the guys react if they found out Celestine knew this?  
  
Celestine took a deep breath. In, out, in, out. She raked a hand through her bangs—breathe. There was too much to think about, too much to focus on, too much for one person to take on all at once, and there was too little time left in the day to address everything. Some things would just have to be left until the tomorrow, like figuring out how to catch Tanner or dealing with Hakase’s oversight—and yes, that could be left until tomorrow, what no one knew wouldn’t kill them, right?—and just focus on the stuff that needed her immediate attention.  
  
_Okay, Lavieaux, first thing’s first. Damage control._  
  
She unclipped Delphi’s Ball and released him. Reassuring the Starter, Take Two.  
  
Delphi ended up on the toilet, and he was much less frazzled than he had been earlier. His fur had gone flat, his tail and ears down, and he sat on his hunches, eyes turned down. The minute his awareness came back, he straightened like a soldier awaiting orders from his commanding officer, eyes turning wide and fearful, filled with millions of questions but her earlier reaction must have been sufficient to keep him silent, because he opened his mouth but then quickly clamped it shut.  
  
“Hey.”  
  
He said nothing.  
  
Celestine ran a hand through her bangs and sighed from deep, deep down within her lungs. “Okay. Delphi, listened to me. I handled this entire situation badly. Really badly. It was wrong to keep you in the dark. It was wrong to tear into you like that. It was wrong to get angry—every single thing I did involving you was wrong on my part.”  
  
She took a deep breath, and she felt her voice breaking in her throat. Apologies were not her forte, they never would be. She hated being wrong, but she  _was_  wrong. Admitting it, making amends, that was the only they could ever move forward and they needed to move forward or they would never get anywhere. Just because her pride felt like shards of broke glass in her throat didn’t mean she shouldn’t swallow it anyway.  
  
“ _I_  screwed up, Delphi,” she said, the word “I” seeming to shatter her from the inside out, “ _not_  you. You did nothing wrong. You were trying to make a connection, and I pushed you away. You shouldn’t feel bad. I’ve... Okay, okay look. My leg. About that? It’s complicated and messy and I thought Hakase had filled you in, but I guess he didn’t because you gave me this look like you had no idea how the bones healed. I don’t know why he didn’t tell you, which means I’ve gotta tell you now, I guess—but honestly? Like I said, messy, complicated, and it’s the end of the day and I’m just...really overstressed, okay? I don’t want to get into it tonight.  
  
“But I  _can_  promise you that I’ll explain everything. Once we get to the next city and we get a room to ourselves and we’re not traveling. W-When we can sit down, just the two of us, and I can fill you in, but in the meantime, Delphi, just...” She stopped, her throat closing up and her mouth dry. Her feet were suddenly aching from having to bear her heels all day—she sat down slowly, as if her joints were stiff iron in need of oil, and folded her legs. “I. I n-need you to trust me, okay? Just for a little bit— I mean, I know I was a bitch, but I just— We’re kinda stuck with each other for now, so— Might as well make the best of it, y’know?”  
  
He blinked and said nothing, his expression unreadable.  
  
“Dammit, why am I so bad at this!?” Celestine groaned, burying her face in her hands. Her eyes burned, her ears rang, and there were dark, spindly shapes forming beneath her eyelids—her heart raced, her mouth tasted like iron mixed with vinegar, and goddammit, they weren’t  _real_. “I just—”  
  
Delphi shrank back.  
  
She tore at her hair, long ebony strands coming loose in her fingers, her scalp tearing and burning and aching. “GaaaaaAAAAAAaaaaaAAAAAAHHHHhhhhh!”  
  
The walls echoed with her shout. Celestine bit her lip so hard her mouth filled with the taste of blood. Delphi let out a bark of alarm, but Celestine used her heel to push herself closer to the door, silently insisting that she was fine. A dull pain throbbed in her skull, the same pain that had been there this morning—and just like this morning, it crescendoed and then ebbed, almost as quickly as it had climaxed. Once it was gone, she let her head fall back, limply, against the door, her breaths coming out in pants.  
  
“...Trainer?” came Delphi’s timid voice, laced heavily with concern.  
  
Her eyes fluttered open. When she looked down, Delphi was standing on her knee, his front paws propped up against her collarbone and his blunt claws digging into her soft skin. His nose was cold against the flush of her cheek, wide orange eyes hovering in front of her, concerned and genuinely scared.  
  
“‘M fine, Delphi,” she managed. She inhaled deeply, hoping to calm her heartbeat down. “Don’t worry. It won’t happen anymore.”  
  
Delphi’s ears flattened. “H-Has this...happened before?”  
  
She closed her eyes and exhaled through her nostrils. “Delphi. Look, I’m fine. Really. I’m touched that you’re worried, but it’s not something you need to worry about. Part of the things I’ll tell you about when we get to Santalune.”  
  
“...okay,” Delphi murmured. He took his paws off her and sat down on his hunches. “Um. T-Trainer, I— i-if you’re willing to try then, um... I guess I am too...?”  
  
“You don’t sound very confident.”  
  
Delphi flattened his ears and started rambling apologies under his breath.  
  
“It was a joke, kid.”  
  
“...oh.”  
  
“Can you get off so I can stand up?”  
  
“Right! Sorry.” He jumped off.  
  
“I’m gonna change now,” she said as she stood—her joints felt stiff and hot, like someone had filled them with molted iron. “How about you go settle down on the bed—the left one—and ask Shauna to let out Mint so you two can chat or something.”  
  
“You’re letting me stay out for the night?” He made it seem like the concept of sleeping outside his Ball for the night was some great taboo.  
  
She arched a brow, already halfway-through taking off her boots. “You  _want_  to go back in your Ball?”  
  
“Um.” Delphi tilted his head to the side, mulling it over. “Not really.”  
  
She opened the door a sliver. “Then go.”  
  
Delphi looked at her like he couldn’t believe she was being serious, but he flattened his ears and slipped out the door. She waited until the fiery end of his tail vanished before she closed it with a soft click.

* * *

When Celestine reemerged, Shauna and Serena seemed to have worked out their disagreement, sitting side-by-side on the couch, trying to figure out how the TV worked, an odd clash between plain pyjamas and glittery frills. On the bed, Delphi was curled up on the pillow, bantering with Mint, though it was clear the Chespin was dominating the conversation—there had to be a way to stop the Fennekin from being so skittish.  
  
“Bathroom’s open,” Celestine announced.  
  
The girls both looked up—Serena’s face turned red. “What are you wearing!?” the blonde screeched.  
  
Celestine, in nothing but her underwear, shrugged. “I usually sleep in this.”  
  
Serena buried her face in her hands while Shauna giggled. “Stay under the covers tonight, Celie. You might give Serie a nosebleed.”  
  
“Shauna!”  
  
Celestine hesitated by the door, her hand lingering on the knob. A flush of embarrassment went through her skin. “Is that a legitimate concern? Should I change?”  
  
“The gorgeous model-type foreigner with the sexy voice and the soulful eyes?” Shauna asked, fighting a smirk. At that point, the embarrassment blazing under Celestine’s skin turned into mortification, and she wanted to crawl into a hole as Shauna started to snicker. “Oh yeah. Your presence is very sexually frustrating.”  
  
Serena grabbed her purse and made a show out of mock-whacking Shauna with it, screaming—OhmyGoddess, Shauna shut  _up_ —as Shauna cackled like a cartoon villainess.   
  
“...I’m just going to get under the covers,” Celestine muttered, and slunk into her bed. She pulled the covers over her head and swore to never come back out again.  
  
As the girls continued to screech at each other, the Kantonian felt something poke the side of her head. “Trainer? Are you okay?”  
  
“Gods, Delphi, you don’t ask a girl if she’s alright when she’s mortified!” Mint cried out.  
  
“Oh.” The weight around Celestine’s head shifted as the Fennekin backed away. “Sorry Trainer.”  
  
Celestine wanted to die. Right now. Someone just kill her. Please, god, please.  
  
“Y’know what,” Serena said loudly, “it’s late and I’m tired and I think we should all go to bed.”  
  
Celestine poked her head out from the blankets. “That sounds like a fabulous idea. Let’s all shut up and go to sleep now.”  
  
“Bah, you’re all killjoys,” Shauna huffed. “I don’t usually fall asleep ‘till midnight.”  
  
Serena made a move to whack the Hoennian with her purse, but Shauna laughed and leaped deftly off the couch. “Go get dressed you night owl!”  
  
Shauna huffed and vanished into the bathroom, muttering there were too many “larks” in Kalos.  
  
Celestine heard Serena sigh and caught the blonde shifting her weight to her hunches, like she was kneeling. A frown worked its way onto her, Celestine’s, face and she sat up (careful to cover her chest with the blankets for self-conscious reasons). “Serena? What are you doing?”  
  
The blonde was kneeling on the couch, facing Celestine. She touched her hand left shoulder, right shoulder, beneath the left breast, beneath the right breast—and then traced an X on her forehead with her thumb before folding her hands as if in prayer, keeping her head lowered devoutly. “I’m praying to the Goddess.”  
  
Celestine blinked. She straightened a little, somewhere between curious and incredulous despite herself. “Wait, seriously?”  
  
Serena hummed an affirmative response.  
  
There was a beat of silence. Celestine exchanged a glance with Delphi and Mint, who both shrugged. And then Serena started to hum.  
  
It was a lilting tune, rhythmic dips in high and low notes, something lovely and reverent, a prayer without words. To Celestine’s ears, it sounded like breathing, or the beat of an ancient heart, and a memory bubbled up in the back of her mind. She suddenly saw Maman, before the stress of motherhood had blanched silver streaks into her hair, the woman kneeling down piously, humming in a silvery voice that always reminded Celestine of the stars at night, glittering and cold but somehow beautiful.  
  
Before Celestine knew it, Serena’s humming had ended, and the Kalosian had begun pulling out a blanket from her purse.  
  
“Hey Serie,” Mint chirruped, “What was that? It was really pretty.”  
  
“It was a prayer,” Serena answered. “They say that the Goddess responds better to wordless prayers, because words are considered a source of conflict or something. Words deceive.”  
  
“That was the hymn of hope, wasn’t it?” Celestine heard herself ask.  
  
They all turned to her, blinking.  
  
The Kantonian flushed. “L-Like a request for good fortune, right? And patience? That’s what they say hope consists of—patience, luck, and strength.”  
  
“How do you know that?” asked Serena.  
  
“My mother was Kalosian. She taught me all about the Goddess and prayers and stuff,” Celestine answered. She felt oddly embarrassed, relaying this information. “I-I mean we never hosted ceremonies or anything like that, but I just... We used to pray every now and again.”  
  
A smile appeared on Serena’s face, pure and simple. “Well then. Maybe next time we can do it together.”  
  
But Celestine shook her head. “I’m flattered, but I stopped believing in fairytales a long time ago.”  
  
“Huh? Why?”  
  
She turned laid down again and pulled the blankets up higher. “I just figured that, if gods really do exist, we shouldn’t put our faith in them. They obviously don’t care about our pettily-ass problems, otherwise the world would be a lot safer.”  
  
And then Shauna came back from the bathroom and they spoke no more.

* * *

  
The lights were off, the room blanketed in shadows. Delphi sat curled on the pillow next to Trainer’s head.  
  
“Hey Delphi?”  
  
The Fennekin’s ears perked at the sound of Trainer’s voice.  
  
“Thanks for accepting my apology.”  
  
Delphi felt oddly warm. “Oh, um, you’re welcome.”  
  
Trainer shifted a little. “Oyasumi, Delphi.”  
  
He didn’t know what that meant, but he could guess from context. “Bonne nuit, Trainer.”

* * *

 

Tierno’s first thought about the room was that it was bigger than his own, which made sense, because it was meant to occupy two people rather than only one. Still, though. It seemed unfair to get banished to a solitary room for something he couldn’t control. It wasn’t  _his_  fault he’d been born with a deviated septum.  
  
Trevor closed the door behind them with a soft click. He was soft in that sense only, but not much more. It was why Shauna had sent Tierno over here after the receptionist incident. Not that Trevor wasn’t a good friend or anything, but there were times when he could come off as a little impatient, and that led to the illusion of insensitivity. Tierno tended to be better at working out the icky, emotional problems, things that required delicate footwork and devotion to a person’s particular rhythm. He’d always been good at picking up on subtle moods, working around trigger-points and getting to the root of the problem without causing anything to blow up.  
  
Tierno’s second thought was actually more of a realization—noticing that Calem was in the corner, his HoloCaster to his ear, a hologram hovering in front of his face. He, Calem, was talking to an older man, but they were practically twins despite the age gap, possessing the same lank dark hair and steely grey eyes and sharp, angled faces. Their shouting was thunderous, loud enough to make the walls shudder and Tierno winced as they fired off, back and forth, back and forth.  
  
“You didn’t give me a choice!” Cal was shouting. Jeez, he was terrifying when he was pissed. “I mean, I’ve heard everything you’ve had to say! If I wanted your advice, I’d have asked for it!”  
  
“And that’s reason enough to leave without telling me?!” Calem’s Père shot back. “Do you have any idea how it felt to hear from  _Evalynne_  that you’d left without saying goodbye?!”  
  
Tierno glanced at Trevor, expecting an explanation. Trevor glanced at Tierno, clearly expecting the same.  
  
Oh. Yikes.  
  
“And suffer through another lecture!? Like hell!”  
  
“Watch your language young man!”  
  
“Oh my  _god_ ,” Calem muttered.  
  
“Imagine how worried I was!” the man went on. “I had  _no idea_  where you were, and then I have to hear it from a secondary source that you’d already left? Now that hurts me deeply, Calem. And the only reason I lecture you is because you are so fucking headstr—”  
  
The hologram dispersed abruptly, and Calem shoved the Caster in his pocket. With a growl, he marched over to the bed and flopped down, groaning.  
  
“Dude,” Tierno spoke up, making Calem jump and straighten. “Did you just hang up on your Père?”  
  
Cal sat up, frowning. “When did you get here?”  
  
“Two minutes ago. You didn’t just hang up on him, did you?”  
  
Cal snorted. “As far as he knows, the battery probably just ran out. It’s what I’m gonna tell him next time he calls, anyway.”  
  
Tierno glanced nervously at Trevor, who returned it with a tired look of his own. The ginger sighed and, with a shrug, climbed up on the other bed, curling up with the Dex in hands. Awkward and seemingly rude as it was, it was Trevor’s way of giving Tierno permission to have at it and feel free to leave him out of it, because Trevor was probably going to say something blunt that might be taken the wrong way. Tierno never liked leaving Trevor out, but it felt wrong to push when Trevor pretty much gave him explicit, almost insistent, permission.  
  
“So what are you gonna say when he calls later?” Tierno asked, seating himself at the foot of Trevor’s bed. The springs creaked under his weight and he resisted the urge to wince.  
  
“No idea. Maybe I just won’t pick up.”  
  
Tierno frowned. “Cal, you can’t ignore him forever.”  
  
“Don’t have to,” Cal said dismissively. “Once we’re in the Forest, the connection won’t be good enough for calls to get through. Which gives him about a week to cool off, at most.”  
  
Tierno stared at Calem for a long time before heaving a sigh. He couldn’t not ask, not after overhearing what he’d overheard. “Please tell me the reason you guys’re fighting isn’t because you left it to your stepmom to tell him where you went.”  
  
Calem grunted and fell back against the bed, glaring petulantly at the ceiling.  
  
“Goddammit, Cal.”  
  
“I had no choice!” Calem shot back, making emphatic gestures with his hands—the way he did when the subject was personal and prickly, a veil of frustration and irritation to hide the icky emotional gunk festering underneath. Tierno mentally steeled his patience for a long-winded rant. “The man has been driving me  _crazy_! ‘Don’t do this’, ‘do this’, ‘take my advice’, ‘listen to my every word’— _Goddess_ , I can’t stand it anymore! It’s my life, my Journey! I mean, I get that he’s trying to keep me from screwing up, but I want to be able to screw up. And I  _know_  that sounds weird, but I just— I don’t know. I don’t know.”  
  
“Cal,” Tierno interrupted softly. Calem turned to him, eyes flashing. “He’s just worried about you. It’s, like, the right of all parents to worry about their kids. He’s your  _Père_ , Cal. His stressing over you is a sign of how much he cares.”  
  
“I  _know_  that!” Calem exploded, loud and raw and coarse. A can of worms bursting open and all the ugly, wriggling gross things exposed, even if only for a second. “Goddammit, I know! But I’m  _not a little kid anymore_! I’m seven-fucking-teen! Hell, I’ll be  _eighteen_  next month! Eighteen—a  _legal adult_! I don’t need him holding my hand and tugging me along! I can do it on my own if he’d just  _fucking let me_!”  
  
Calem’s face was red by the end, and he kept making incoherent gestures with his hands, as if to make up for the fact to further articulate his frustration. He pinched the bridge of his nose, releasing a noise that was somewhere between a growl and groan.  
  
Tierno waited for the color to leave Cal’s face before he spoke up. “Can I say something?”  
  
Cal didn’t answer. Tierno took that as a green light.  
  
“You know the only reason he’s stressing over you this much is because—”  
  
“ _I know!_ ” Calem ran his hands through his hair and sighed heavily. “I  _know_.”  
  
Tierno’s mouth twisted as he watched Cal attempting to calm himself down. Well, that was to be expected when you were dealing with such a loaded subject.  
  
Still, it was a disheartening thing Tierno was witnessing. Contrary to his current behavior, Calem’s Père was actually a rather laidback parent—supportive, encouraging, there for the low points as well as the high. He tried stay out of Calem’s personal affairs unless he was explicitly asked, tried to foster a sense of independence in his son. But this rigidity—this intense apprehension and mounting strictness—was new and unfamiliar, and it was more than enough to alienate Cal. Even Cal’s stepmother, Evalynne, who was usually the worrywart of the married pair, found the drastic change in demeanor to be concerning. And it was painful to watch, seeing the slow deterioration of Cal’s otherwise great relationship with his parents into a slew of virulent arguments and bristling against authority and long, tense periods of spiteful silence.  
  
Honestly, Tierno couldn’t stand it. He’d always been a little envious of Calem’s living situation—er, minus the icky divorce that had occurred before Cal had moved Vaniville—especially after his own Père had left him and his mother when he was barely four. Yeah, he’d rather not get into that, but anyway. It was really the worst thing in the world, watching a parent-child relationship as strong as this weaken and falter and fall over dead. Probably the worst part was that Tierno didn’t think of anything he could do. It would be intrusive to get involved, too impudent to force an adult to have a healthy conversation with their child, and Calem had made it very clear it was something he explicitly  _did not want_  someone else fixing for him.  
  
Which left Tierno with nothing to do but sit back and play therapist. The listening part, anyway.  
  
“...I  _know_  why,” Cal said quietly. “That doesn’t make it better.”  
  
Tierno wasn’t sure what to say to that. There were some rhythms you just couldn’t dance to.  
  
Trevor glanced up from whatever he was doing with his Dex—probably scrolling through the entries out of whatever scientific curiosity the ginger harbored in that big noggin of his—and pursed his lips, like he wanted to say something but wasn’t sure how to say it.  
  
The lights flickered suddenly, dark to light to dark to light again. Everyone tensed, looking at the ceiling as if trying to detect the source of the power failure—which was admittedly silly, because the light source was the lamp to the right.  
  
“What the hell was that?” Trevor asked.  
  
“Looks like the power faltered,” Calem said. “Which, isn’t surprising. Père said that rest stops out in the country like this one aren’t as well maintained as those closer to Gym towns.” A pause, married by a frown. “If either of you tell him that I was actually paying attention to any of his lectures, I’ll kill you with a breadstick.”  
  
Tierno blinked. “Why a breadstick?”  
  
Cal shrugged. “First thing I thought of.”  
  
“You guys are weird,” Trevor muttered.  
  
Something in Cal’s pocket trilled, and Calem  _groaned_.  
  
“Kill me,” he said as he pulled his Caster out again. “Five minutes. The man can’t give me  _five fucking minutes_  of peac— Uh, what?”  
  
“What is it?” Tierno asked.  
  
“It’s my Mère,” Calem answered, his voice thick with confusion.  
  
Trevor perked up. “Wait, seriously?”  
  
Calem just blinked vacantly at his Caster.  
  
Tierno and Trevor exchanged a glance before scrambling over to the other bed. Tierno took a seat on one side of Cal, sitting on the edge so that his legs dangled over, while Trevor plopped himself cross-legged to Calem’s left. “Put her on speaker!” Trevor said excitedly, “Put her on speaker!”  
  
Calem frowned at them. “ _Why_?”  
  
“Because your Mère is  _awesome_ ,” Trevor answered, just as eager.  
  
Tierno had to agree with that. Calem’s Mère worked two awesome but strenuous jobs, one full time and the other more of a hobby that required some pretty hardcore dedication, and somehow owned her cluttered schedule rather than let it own her. While she had reluctantly relinquished her joint custody after Cal moved, she made up for it with constant video-chats and the occasional visit. Said visits often included grand gestures—one example Tierno could think of was when they were nine and Calem’s Mère took them to an amusement park when they were kids, and they’d all unanimously agreed she was the most “fun” mom among them—but that wasn’t the only content of her parenting style. She was just the right blend of indulgent and disciplined, good at grand gestures but also there for what followed. And that included, but was not exclusive to, offering emotional support and encouragement whenever it was needed, though she was a bit more proactive than her ex-husband in regards to said matters. Rather than pushing, like how Monsieur Lafayette was and obviously producing negative results, she had a much subtly approach, dropped hints when she saw something wrong and giving out little bits of ambiguous advice to let you know she was aware of whatever was troubling you, but she’d let you come to her on your own—really trying to emphasize the whole bond-aspect of parenting. At least, that’s how Tierno saw it. Calem, though, sometimes complained that she was overly nosey and too indirect.  
  
Parenting style aside, she once took them to a Veteran’s Tournament in Lumiose when they were ten and the seats were  _awesome_. So, yeah, she was pretty cool.  
  
Calem glanced over Tierno inquisitively, to which Tierno offered a fervent nod. Cal rolled his eyes and pressed the answer key.  
  
His Caster flared to life, the blue light of the 3D hologram projector manifested into a woman with wavy hair pulled back into a high ponytail and a pair of glasses framing her flinty eyes. Cal mostly took after his Père, but a few, subtle touches of his Mère could be seen in his features. And for a woman pushing forty, she still looked quite young—and Tierno in no way meant that in a creepy-weird, I-have-a-crush-on-your-Mère kind of way.  
  
“Hi Madame Rousseau,” Trevor and Tierno said in unison.  
  
Madame Rousseau smiled back. “Hi boys.” She paused briefly, expectant. And when no one else spoke, she rolled her eyes. “Bonjour, Calem. Really, you can’t say hello to your Mère without someone prompting you?”  
  
“Why are you calling?” Calem asked bluntly.  
  
Tierno elbowed him in the ribs. Calem let a sharp “ow” and shot him a glare in response.  
  
“Really?” Madame Rousseau’s dark lips drew into a tiny frown, like she’d just bit into a lemon. Tierno couldn’t tell the color because of the blue hologram light, but he guessed red. She seemed to favor that color because of how professional it looked. “That’s how you say hello?”  
  
“Yeah, not cool man,” Tierno agreed. He knew Cal was blunt as a hammer, but, c’mon,  _seriously_.  
  
Calem shot him a  _shut up_  look before turning back to Madame Rousseau, his countenance painted with incredulousness. “Mère, no offense, but you rarely ever make unannounced calls. Usually you stick to the whole call-schedule thing, and that’s because of your job and everything, which I get. But when you call unannounced, it’s usually because something bad’s happening. Like,  _really_  bad.  _Last time_ , for example—”  
  
“Okay,  _okay_.” Madame Rousseau held up a hand in surrender. “ _I get it_. But believe me when I say my reasons for calling a very benign.”  
  
“Oh my god.” Cal pinched the bridge of his nose. “You’re going to meddle, aren’t you?”  
  
Ah. That made sense.  
  
“Do you  _want_  me to meddle?” Madame Rousseau asked, feigning innocence.  
  
“Not particularly.”  
  
“Too bad.”  
  
Calem groaned.  
  
“Look, normally I wouldn’t be making calls like this,” said Madame Rousseau sternly, “but your Père called and—”  
  
“Are you  _kidding_  me?” Calem interrupted, infuriated. “Are you—  _Unbelievable_.”  
  
Madame Rousseau blinked once. Then twice more. “Cal?”  
  
“He called you to get you on his side.” Cal pinched the bridge of his nose again, barely concealing his anger. Tierno and Trevor exchanged a looked before scooting back a little bit. They knew Calem well enough to give him a bit of space. “That is  _so_ — I can’t even  _believe_  he did that! It’s— It’s— It’s  _petty_  is what it is! Oh my  _god_.”  
  
“Calem, dear, what in earth are you talking about?”  
  
“ _Look_ ,” Calem ground out, antagonistic and borderline furious, “it is my  _freakin’ life_ , and if I want to set out today, then that is  _my_  business—”  
  
Madame Rousseau leaned in forward, suddenly, her perfectly shaped brows raising in intrigue. “You set out today?”  
  
Calem faltered. “Wait, what?”  
  
“Goddess, my only son sets out on his Journey and he doesn’t even bother to inform his mother so she can celebrate this momentous occasion!” She sat back and clutched her heart with both hands, drawing a close-eyed, wounded expression. “And here I thought I had been a good mother!”  
  
Cal’s eyes flashed with alarm. “I, uh, w-wait a sec—”  
  
She cracked an eye open, a mischievous grin slicing her face. “I’m  _kidding_ , dear. You’re almost an adult and you’re capable of making your own decisions without consulting your parents. Still, at little notice would have been nice.”  
  
Tierno leaned in and whispered, “You seriously didn’t tell her?”  
  
Calem whipped around to face the dance so fast that his dark hair came back around to slap his cheek. “There was a lot going on,” Cal whispered back, “and Trevor was complaining about punctuality. I kinda forgot.”  
  
Tierno frowned.  
  
“Don’t give me that look!”  
  
Madame Rousseau frowned that tiny little lemon-tasting frown of hers. “Why? What happened?”  
  
Calem turned back to her and painted on a false smile. “Nothing. Nothing at all.”  
  
Her frown deepened slightly and her flinty eyes flashed between Tierno and Trevor. She tilted her head back, looking very proud and serious and a little aloof—she was quite intimidating when she did that, something Tierno’s own Mère could never pull off. He suddenly felt like a five-year-old caught with his hand in the cookie jar.  
  
“Boys,” she said sweetly, “wanna tell me what’s going on?”  
  
Tierno had the sudden urge to hide. “Uh, well, it’ll probably come up eventually?”  
  
She arched a single brow, clearly not impressed. Another thing about her, she had a nose for crap but little tolerance for it.  
  
“It’s a thing with Cal and his Père,” Trevor mumbled, not brave enough to meet her gaze.  
  
Calem shot them a glare, but Madame Rousseau relaxed. “I see,” she said mildly. “Well, in that case, you don’t have to tell me. If it’s between you and your father, Cal, then let’s keep it that way. Goddess knows you need me butting in.”  
  
“ _Merci_.” Calem paused, frowning. “Wait, then why did you call?”  
  
“Well, that’s the thing.” She sighed, adjusting her glasses. “See, I actually got this call a couple days ago and I’m just now following up on it—which says a lot about my work schedule, doesn’t it? Ma Déesse, it’s a  _nightmare_ —but, anyway.” She paused, as if for dramatic effect, and Calem rolled his eyes. “It’s about some girl your Père mentioned. Celine or something?”  
  
“I don’t know anyone named Celine, Mère.”  
  
“Well, it was something along those lines. I know her last name is ‘Lavieaux’.”  
  
The reaction was instantaneous—Calem threw his head back and groaned. “ _Fuck_  my life!”  
  
“ _Language_ , young man!”  
  
Calem slumped forward and pinched the bridge of his nose again. “I really don’t want to talk about this.”  
  
“ _Too bad_ ,” Madame Rousseau retorted, a subtle edge to her tone. “Normally this is the sort of thing I would stay out of, but Elouan was quite insistent. He said if you hadn’t worked it out with her, then you needed someone other than him to talk to you. And your stepmom backed him up, which has me even more worried.”  
  
“Well, you don’t need to worry,” Cal said flatly. “We worked it out, everything’s roses and sunshine.”  
  
Tierno frowned. “Serie said you guys fought just today. She said it was why you were so late.”  
  
Calem rounded on him immediately. “ _Why_.”  
  
Madame Rousseau exhaled through her nose. “O- _kay_. Sounds like I need to step in.”  
  
Cal turned back to her. “No, you really don’t.”  
  
“Calem—”  
  
“You don’t even know what it’s  _about_ ,” Calem objected.  
  
“ _Actually_ , I  _do_ , because your father told me. And if it’s anywhere as serious as it sounds,  _we need to talk_.”  
  
Calem clenched his jaw. “There’s really nothing to talk about, Mère. She almost killed Alistair and she acted like that was okay. There’s really nothing I can do about that.”  
  
“She  _tried_ ,” Trevor muttered.  
  
Cal turned to him. “What?”  
  
Trevor pursed his lips and averted his eyes.  
  
Tierno sighed. Once again, it was up to him to step in before this turned too ugly. “She tried to apologize earlier, but you kinda brushed her off.”  
  
Calem frowned. “Did Rena tell you that, too? Because that did  _not_  count as an apology.”  
  
“What are you talking about? I was  _there_.”  
  
“What are  _you_  talking about?” Cal’s frown deepened. “Last time I checked, you weren’t at Shauna’s place today.”  
  
“I’m talking about the gymnasium,” Tierno said. “A couple days ago, after the actual battle? After Celie left and Shauna followed her, then she came back and tried to apologize. And you kinda told her to go to hell. In less kind words.”  
  
“Calem!” Madame Rousseau gasped.  
  
Calem blinked. “She did?”  
  
“You don’t remember?”  
  
Calem’s expression went totally blank. “Uh...”  
  
“ _Dude_ ,” Tierno groaned.  
  
“Well, he  _was_  pretty hysteric,” Trevor pointed out.  
  
“But she was— She was just so—” Calem made a few incoherent gestures with his hands. “ _Intentional_. So why would she—”  
  
“She’s Kantonian, isn’t she?” Madame Rousseau interrupted.  
  
“What?”  
  
“This girl, whatshername. Evalynne said she was Kantonian. Is that true?”  
  
“Well, yeah, but, I don’t see how—”  
  
“Okay, that explains a few things,” Madame Rousseau said with a hint of a sigh.  
  
Calem balked. “Like what?”  
  
“Well, Monsieur Know-it-all, what do you think is the hardest part about being a Trainer is?”  
  
“The  _battles_ , obv—”  
  
“Wrong,” Madame Rousseau interrupted. “You might think it’s the battling—and I did too, as a beginner, all beginners think that—but it’s actually navigating the cultural diversity.”  
  
“The what?”  
  
“Cultural. Diversity. You’d be surprised how much a region’s culture can affect the mentality of Trainers and their battle styles, and  _especially_  their values. And that’s particularly true of Tohjonians—good  _Goddess_. I’ve only met a couple and I can tell you for a fact that you will never encounter a culture as zealous and as adamant about battling as them.  
  
“To them, battling isn’t a test of skill or a test of bonds, not like it is here. Rather than being viewed as a sport, it’s actually a way of life for these people. Each battle is a duel in defense of the Trainer’s honor, in which backing out is humiliating and Reaper Battles are perfectly acceptable. Don’t make that face, Cal, I never said it was right, I’m just telling you how they think. And I know this because I made the same mistake you did when I was younger. I had what I thought was a friendly match between myself and a Trainer from Johto, and before I knew it I was locked in a Reaper Battle. The thing is—if you don’t say it’s Non-Reaper, they will just assume you’re willing to take it all the way.  
  
“And I’m assuming you didn’t do that? Specify that it was Non-Reaper?”  
  
Calem looked away. “Well, no, but—”  
  
“ _Exactly_. In her eyes, she was justified, and it was a mistake on your part, not hers.”  
  
“Shauna said something similar,” Tierno added, just because he was starting to feel like he wasn’t part of the conversation and that maybe he shouldn’t be listening in. But hey, if he put in his two-cents, then that justified him being here, right? Oh, and it had to helpful. Definitely helpful. “About how it was a cultural thing and that’s the only reason Celie acted like that.”  
  
“Well maybe  _Shauna_  can apologize for her,” Calem snapped, the edge in his voice screaming  _butt out_.  
  
But Tierno knew Cal well enough to tell that the annoyance was mostly superficial anyway, so pushing just itty bitty bit more wouldn’t do too much harm. “She tried to. You kinda blew up at her, too.”  
  
“That’s what I really don’t get about you,” Trevor piped up. “You ask for an apology, and when you get one, you act like it’s not good enough. And this sort of thing has happened before, too, so.”  
  
“Yeah, but Cal doesn’t think straight when he’s pissed,” Tierno reminded him, just because Trevor was starting to wander into touchy territory.  
  
Calem  _glowered_.  
  
“Hey! It’s true!”  
  
“Can I talk again?” Madame Rousseau asked with strained politeness that made Tierno regret butting in. She could be rather scary when she wanted to.  
  
Calem turned back to her, exasperated. “Let me guess—you’re going to say something like how I shouldn’t be mad because it was a  _miscommunication_  and I should just let it go.”  
  
Madame Rousseau snorted. “Hell no. The girl almost killed your Fletchinder, you have  _every right_  to be mad. Hell, when I fought that Johtonian, I was so mad I nearly had Azula  _torch_  the guy. But then he explained it to me and I realized it was justified—but I was still  _fucking pissed_.” She paused abruptly, eyes widening slightly, and she looked at them with an edge of urgency. “You did not just hear me curse, understood?”  
  
Calem rolled his eyes.  
  
“Look, what I’m trying to say is that it’s not wrong to get mad, Goddess  _knows_  you got my temper. But what I’m trying to say is that getting mad isn’t exactly the best solution,” she said, and here she actually started to sound like a mom giving her kid a lecture. Tierno felt a twinge of sympathy for Cal and wondered if there was any way the dancer could discreetly slip out of the room to give them some privacy. Though, he doubted Trevor would be so willing to follow. “And it’s probably not the last time you’re going to deal with this, either, because Kalos is a goddamn tourist trap with all those ancient-y castles and crap, and a lot of those tourists are Trainers as well. As a Trainer, you’re going to have to navigate a variety of cultures and sometimes it’ll just drive you nuts— _but_. Getting angry and throwing a fit won’t solve anything. It certainly hasn’t solved this issue, clearly.  
  
“Long story short, Cal—you need to learn how to deal with this sort of thing, and the sooner, the better. This girl is probably just as frustrated as you and getting mad won’t help anything. Now, before you complain, I’m  _not_ saying to apologize. You haven’t done anything wrong. I’m  _not_  saying become her best friend, either. What I am saying is to trying and consider her perspective, even for a second, be a little less hostile from now on, and try to avoid blowing the issue up like this in the future. Learn from your mistakes. Okay?”  
  
Calem’s jaw worked, and he was trying not glare but he was failing rather miserably. There was a contemplativeness there, thoughts spinning around in that head of his, eyes flashing with something not quite tempered—oh yeah, you bet he got Madame Rousseau’s temper. Tierno and Trevor exchanged a glance and Tierno wondered if Cal would say something he could regret later, and then have to watch this turn into another full-blown argument. Would they have to sit back and watch Cal’s relationship with his Mère deteriorate too?  
  
But Cal sighed and the tension in his shoulders relaxed. “Fine. I’ll talk to her. Happy?”  
  
Madame Rousseau adjusted her glasses with a wry smile. “I’d be happier if you were a little less grudging, but that’s not something I can really control.”  
  
“Whatever.”  
  
“Calem, I’m really  _not_  trying to lecture you,” she said. Her voice had lost the authoritative edge in favor of something softer, something almost apologetic. “I just want you to acknowledge that there are other opinions out there besides your own, and accepting them is part of life. And believe me, as a reporter, I can understand being impartial more than anyone. It’s a necessity in my line of work.  _But_  it’s a necessity for a Trainer, believe it or not. And... if that’s what you really want to do... well, then I want you to succeed. And if I have to butt in, the goddammit, I’m gonna do it, okay?”  
  
At this, Calem seemed to relent a little bit. “That’s... thank you. That’s actually pretty cool of you.”  
  
“Well, duh! I  _am_  the cool parent between your Père and I.”  
  
“Okay, I’m hanging up now.”  
  
Madame Rousseau grinned impishly, the white of her teeth shocking against her lipstick, and waved. “Je vous aime, Cali-kinz!”  
  
Calem growled something along the lines of “don’t call me that!” and promptly hung up.  
  
“So, does this mean you’re going to go work things out with Celestine?” Trevor asked. “And not be such an ass all the time?”  
  
For that remark, the ginger was rewarded with a pillow whacking the side of his head. Calem got up and stalked over to the other bed, grumbling something about how everyone was ripping on him today and how he couldn’t catch a break.  
  
“I was  _joking_ ,” Trevor muttered, rubbing the side of his head. “Ow. Fuck. I’m gonna feel that in the morning.”  
  
Tierno winced sympathetically. He knew from experience Cal knew how to make even the softest pillows hurt like hell, and stiffer ones like those the rest stop stocked could be deadly weapons in the hands of Calem Lafayette. You could blame Shauna and her insistence on hosting sleep overs almost every week as kids.  
  
Calem grunted and flopped down the other bed. Tierno watched him laid down—noted the tension in his muscles, the scowl fixed to his face—and frowned. Something was off. Sure, Cal had never liked the pet name his Mère had given him as a child, claimed it was way too cutesy and childish and resented Shauna for using it occasionally, but usually he would just brush it off with an exasperated sigh or an eye roll and mutter something about his Mère was cheesy. It would never really bother him, not this much, not usually.  
  
“Is something else bugging you?” Tierno asked.  
  
“No,” Cal answered, a little too quickly.  
  
That was the clincher.  
  
“Okay. What happened?”  
  
Cal huffed. “Nothing.”  
  
“Calem,” Tierno said in an all-business tone that made Calem stifle a groan. “I have two superpowers. One, the ability to dance to any rhythm and become a human beatbox at will—”  
  
“That’s two separate things,” Trevor interrupted.  
  
Tierno shot the ginger a politer version of Calem’s  _shut up_  look before turning back to Cal. “And two, I can read people. Especially people who’ve known each other for almost ten years. So, I’m gonna ask again—is something else bugging you?”  
  
Cal didn’t answer.  
  
“The receptionist?”  
  
“What? No.”  
  
Strike one. “Something involving Celie?”  
  
Calem’s mouth twitched.  
  
Home run. “Oh,  _god_ , what happened?”  
  
Calem sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Don’t worry about it. I’ll... deal with it. It’s really not my place to say.”  
  
“Okay?” Tierno had honestly not been expecting a response like that. He’d expected something more like “it’s my business, not yours”, “I can handle it just butt out”, or something like that. But “it’s not my place to say” was new and a little concerning.  _God_ , what did he say to Celie? Or what did she say to him? “Uh, anything you can say?”  
  
Calem hesitated for a long time before he shook his head.  
  
“Cal.”  
  
“It’s nothing,” Calem said, turning his gaze up to the ceiling. “It’s stupid.”  
  
That was more along the lines of a standard response from him, which was little more reassuring, honestly. “Fine. Say it anyway.”  
  
“It’s something Celestine said. Don’t worry about it.”  
  
Tierno paused. Another thing involving Celie, huh? Geez, those two were really tangled up. “Quick question—is it related to the other thing?”  
  
“What? Oh, uh, no.”  
  
“So you can talk about it if you want?”  
  
“I guess? But I really  _don’t_  want to—”  
  
“For Pete’s sake,” Trevor grumbled. “You know you’re gonna end up telling Tierno anyway ‘cause he’s our group therapist. Just get it over with.”  
  
_“Group therapist” is actually a pretty good way of putting it_ , Tierno thought with a light sigh.  
  
“Fine.” Calem sat up and folded his legs. “Earlier today, at Shauna’s place, Celestine and I were arguing about the battle incident.”  
  
_Not that surprising, from what Serie said._  “And?”  
  
“And... I dunno. I said something about how she was brutalist and she said something about how I was hypocrite because...” Calem paused, his face twisting. “Because I didn’t put Alistair in his Ball after the battle. I just, kinda forgot about him while I argued with her.”  
  
Tierno felt a twinge of guilt at the mention of the Alistair incident. After all, it has been Phillipe, Tierno’s Corphish, that Celestine had borrowed for the battle.  
  
“And... she’s right. I just. I blanked. I put my pride in front of his wellbeing and I...” Calem averted his eyes and hunched his shoulders, but it didn’t do anything to mask the vulnerability that was peeking through. And Calem was rarely vulnerable, rarely second-guessing himself. This obviously affected him more than he was letting on. He let out a heavy sigh, from deep within that little corner where Cal tended to shove all his negativity. “So much for Trainer’s instinct and all that crap.”  
  
“Well, it’s crap because there’s no such thing,” Tierno said, which made Calem frown. The dancer held up a hand in a silent plea not to be interrupted just as the Trainer was opening his mouth to speak. “Look, what you have is battle instinct, and that’s why you’re so great at battling. Sometimes, I kinda envy you for it—but that’s not really instinct either. It’s learned behavior.”  
  
“Um, what?”  
  
“Y’know. Move power, classification, the Type table and stats and all that stuff that makes my head spin.” And here, Tierno drew on a playful smile. Calem just rolled his eyes in mild amusement. “But you memorize that, and then it becomes secondary knowledge, so when you battle, in the back of your mind you’re thinking about all that stuff. Trainer’s instinct though? That’s just a myth made up by veterans who’ve been doing the whole Trainer gig so long it’s second nature.”  
  
“...Serena told you that, didn’t she?”  
  
Tierno chuckled. “You got me. But the sentiment still holds, y’know. We’re  _all_  just starting out here. You can’t honestly expect to be good at it after a few weeks of local battling, Cal.”  
  
Calem’s shoulders slumped. “Yeah. Yeah, I guess you’re right.”  
  
“You’ll get the hang of it,” Tierno said warmly. “And this a chance to learn from your mistakes.”  
  
“God, you sound like Mère.”  
  
Tierno laughed. “I’ll take that as a compliment!”  
  
Trevor arched a brow. “You really are being too hard on yourself, Cal. I mean, the whole purpose of this Journey is you wanting to become a better Trainer, right?”  
  
“Well, yeah... I mean, I guess so...”  
  
“Right,” said Trevor brightly, in a rare moment of encouragement. “And I mean, we’re all out here to improve too. I want to learn as much as I can, Tierno wants to see a buncha Pokémon moves to incorporate into his over-the-top dance routines—”  
  
“ _Excuse_  you!” Tierno laughed, giving the smaller boy a light shove. “My dance routines are perfect and only gonna get  _more_  perfect, thank you.”  
  
Trevor huffed and rolled his eyes. Calem chuckled. For a moment, all the negativity that had plagued them before was gone, and it was like a breath of fresh, springtime air.  
  
“Whatever,” Trevor went on. “But Shauna’s making memories to grow as a person, and then you’re challenging Gym circuit to become a better Trainer.”  
  
A soft smile curled Calem’s mouth. “Yeah, I guess.”  
  
“ _Although_ ,” Trevor continued—a hot flash of panic went through Tierno when he realized that Trevor was going to keep pushing this, oh  _god_ , this was not going to end well—as he slipped his Dex into his pocket again, “I gotta wonder why.”  
  
Cal’s expression changed, suddenly dark and guarded. “Why what?”  
  
“Why you’re doing this,” the ginger said innocently, seemingly unaware of the tension mounting in the air around their friend. Oh, there went that springtime breath of fresh air. “I mean, I’m traveling because a lot of young researchers do and it looks good on an application. Plus the real-world experience is a pretty damn awesome bonus. And I already mentioned Tierno getting inspiration for his dance routines—”  
  
“Uh, Trevs? Maybe you should just—”  
  
“—and Shauna’s been on a carpe diem kick ever since her uncle died two years ago,” Trevor kept going, completely ignoring Tierno’s attempt to intervene, and oh boy, this was going to end  _so badly_ , “but I really don’t know why you’re doing this. I mean, other than that job you took in Lumiose last summer, you’ve never really been all that interested in battling— Where are you going?”  
  
Calem was standing up—eyes dark and flashing like the ocean, fraught with shadows and mysteries too deep to understand—and marching towards the door with all the presence of an oncoming storm. “I’m going to go train.”  
  
Trevor hesitated, seeming to realize he’d pushed too far. “It’s... it’s dark out, Cal.”  
  
“I’ll  _manage_.” The door whipped open and slammed closed, the air seeming to snap as the tension followed Calem out of the room.  
  
A still silence descended over the two. Trevor curled up in on himself and groaned softly, burying his face in his hands.  
  
“I fucked that up, didn’t I?” the ginger murmured.  
  
Tierno sighed. “Little bit, Trevs.”  
  
“Shit. This is why you stop me from talking,” Trevor said softly, his voice shaking just a little, “so I don’t say shit like that.”  
  
A pang sliced Tierno’s heart. “You were doing fine up until the last part, though! You just need to figure out how to not push so hard.”  
  
Trevor didn’t respond.  
  
“And figure out when you’ve hit a sensitive topic. You need to work on that too—but you’re getting better! Way better than a few years ago!”  
  
The ginger sniffed and looked up. His silver eyes were somewhat misted. “I just hate it when he does this.”  
  
“I know,” Tierno mumbled. And he understood, too, because they were still recovering from the last time Calem shut down on them like this. “Just give him some time. He’ll talk to us when he’s ready.”  
  
“Okay.” Trevor got up stiffly. “Think he’ll come back before we fall asleep?”  
  
“He’s gonna have to.”  
  
“What makes you say that?”  
  
Tierno pointed to the nightstand, where a pair of plastic blue cards sat next to the lamp. “He forgot his room key.”  
  
“Oh.” Trevor frowned. “Damn, he’s gonna wake up in the middle of the night, isn’t he?”  
  
“Probably.” Tierno stood up. “I’m gonna head back to my room and get ready to bed.”  
  
“Okay. Just don’t snore through the walls,” the ginger said idly, which made the dancer frown but he chose not to comment.  
  
After a quick bid goodnight, Tierno found himself in front of his room, and as he swiped his card, he recalled the last time Calem had pulled away from them. How it had nearly broken them apart and irreparably changed things. They were still recovering, still getting used to a new normal.  
  
_I hope you know what you’re doing, Cal_ , Tierno thought,  _because you’re a part of this group, and everything you do affects us too._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One: I apologize in advance if I misrepresent anything here. I'm trying to not define the characters by their sexual orientations, nor am I just tacking them on for the sake of diversity. They will be explored later for character development purposes.
> 
> Two: Love hotels are a real thing. Look it up, I dare you.
> 
> Three: "Bonne nuin" and "oyasumi" mean "goodnight" in French and Japanese respectively. Père is French for "father" and mère is French for "mother". A little more formal than affectionate. Also, "je vous aime" is French for "I love you", but refers to platonic love rather than romantic, so like family members and good friends. That sort of thing.
> 
> Four: The other Pidgey's name is Tanner. I do catch him later.
> 
> Five: Serena being modest is NOT a lesbian thing exclusively, but Shauna is less modest and interprets that being shy about changing means she's attracted to Celestine, because Shauna herself wouldn't feel shy about changing in front of someone unless she was attracted to someone.
> 
> Six: Calem's parents ARE divorced, and this happened a long time ago. It was a little tense at first, but they're amicable now. And yeah, "Madame Rousseau", as she will called for now, will make a reappearance, and she did return to her maiden name. She's Serena's mom's sister, so she's Serena's aunt in addition to being Calem's mom.
> 
> Seven: Okay, for clarification--Calem and his do NOT have a bad relationship. HOWEVER, recent events have placed a strain on their relationship, which is why you see that shouting match at the beginning.
> 
> Eight: Calem has shut down on them before. It was big deal.
> 
> I struggled with the last part because I was writing from Tierno's perspective and it felt a little forced. But it all worked out in the end. I think? I feel like that ending was too abrupt. But overall, I like how this went, even though there were some strained parts.
> 
> That's all for now,  
> Luna


	8. Chapter 4: Eternel (Part 1)

**Éternel**  
(adjective)

  * French for “eternal”, “everlasting”, “timeless”, and “endless”



 

" _And if you have to leave  
I wish that you would  **just leave**  
'Cause your presence still  **lingers**  here  
And it  **won't leave me alone**_ "  
—"My Immortal", Evanescence

 

  
Shauna woke up at two minutes to nine AM to the sound of Celestine screaming.  
  
That alone was not really all that unusual. Celie suffered from what Shauna called “constant nightmare syndrome”, and she had a habit of whimpering and sobbing in her sleep, something that Shauna found incredibly concerning but Celestine brushed off casually. (It probably had something to do with the conversation she’d overhead between her Mom and one of the Professor’s assistants, a blonde guy named Dexio, and the mention of PTSD, shh it’s a secret don’t tell anyone) Once, during the week that Celestine had stayed in the Gabena house, Shauna had woken in the middle of the night to agitated shouting in unintelligible Kantonese, sharp enough pierce the darkness and Shauna’s dreamland. Her Mom had handled it, in the end, and Celestine had apologized with a deep, reverent bow for the outburst. That night, Shauna had seen traces of primal fear in Celestine’s eyes and tears clinging to her lashes, though her plastic smile and sweet apologies had tried to mask it. Shauna had to wonder what Celestine dreamed about, and how something like that could scare someone who put up such a fearless front, someone who was so experienced and well versed in all the dangers of the Trainer’s world.  
  
It made her wonder what Celestine had seen, and what she had carried with her from Kanto.  
  
Well, Shauna was a decent sleeper and the Kantonese babble that came from Celie in the middle of the night didn’t bother her much. Serena and Mint were all but dead to the world the minute they shut their eyes, and while Delphi’s sensitive ears made him more prone to waking and worrying—and he had woken her up in the middle of the night, eyes wide as saucers with fear and concern—but Shauna had assured him it was nothing to worry about and that Celestine would only make a larger scene if she was woken up. Elaborate Kantonese apologies and all. That had pretty much smoothed out the problem and Shauna could ignore most of the whimpering and mumbling that spilled from Celestine’s lips.  
  
But this was different. The shout was not one of fear, but one laced thickly with pain and alarm. The shout alone made her eyes open, but the tone of it made her frown. Celestine and pain didn’t really mix. The Kantonian had an alarmingly high tolerance for pain, as testament by the time Shauna had tried to get Celie to ride Mom’s Rhyhorn, Johnny, and Johnny had bucked her. Shauna remembered the first Johnny bucked her and when she landed, she’d bruised her tailbone and her side and tweaked her shoulder and it had hurt like  _hell_ , but Celestine had landed in an even more awkward position that had probably twisted her legs and she just winced and stood up like it was nothing, even if she did limp a little.  
  
Shauna sat up, blinking, and fought back a yawn. When her vision focused, the sight before her was not what she expected.  
  
Gold. The sun must have risen sometime in the middle of the night—oh, no, wait, scratch that it was morning. Pale, buttery sunlight filtered in through the window, and the sun had risen up over the dark, distant horizon of endless Santalune Forest and it was this big, blinding ball that hurt her eyes. Shauna had to squint, because, y’know, you can’t look directly at the sun even if it’s early morn— Wait.  _Wait_. Who opened the window? The curtains fluttered in a light breeze that totally explained the chill in here, but Shauna distinctly remembered that it was closed last night.  _And_  it looked like the lock had been picked at. Oh, jeez, was Shauna responsible for that? She hoped not. She hadn’t signed any liability papers. At least, none that she remembered...  
  
Disheveled. Celestine was on the ground, wound in a cocoon of her own blankets and long black hair from the waist down, groaning. The pear leaves that had been gathered up and placed on the nightstand last night were now all over the floor like an organic confetti mishap, and a lot of them had gotten caught in Celie’s bushy mane. Both pillows were crooked—or, one was crooked, teetering halfway off the mattress like it was about to fall off. The other was closer to the foot of the bed, and Delphi was standing on it, blinking over the edge with a groggy sort of concern for his new Trainer. Now, Celie talked in her sleep, but to Shauna’s knowledge, she didn’t toss and turn, at least not that much, otherwise they would have had this problem a lot sooner, the thump of a body hitting the floor loud enough to echo in Shauna’s house.  
  
Perched. A sunburst orange bird, muscular and sleek, was balanced itself on the wooden bedpost at the end of the bed. There was quite a presence about it, one that was bold and fierce and powerful, brilliant yellow markings accenting its dark eyes and powerful black wings. Noticing Shauna’s attention, the Fletchinder shrugged unapologetically and started to massage his ash-grey stomach feathers with his charcoal-colored beak. Well, that answered the question of why the window was open and the lock was loosened—not broken, hopefully, prey to the Leviathan—but raised a whole slew of new questions. What the hell was Alistair doing in their room? Did Cal send him, and if so, why?  
  
Pain. Celestine sat up, a cascade of Kantonese curses spilling from her lips as she glared up at the bird, her blue eyes wet and blazing with pain. Her bangs were askew, and Shauna could make out a bright red mark on her forehead that made the Hoennian wince. Oh, god, that better not be what she thought it was, because if it was, she was kicking Calem’s ass. Who sent their Pokémon to  _physically attack_  someone, like some sort of violent-o-gram? Jeez, Shauna knew that Cal could hold a grudge and he could be a real pain in the ass about stuff like that sometimes, but wow, this was a new low and she honestly didn’t expect him to sink to sending his bird to dish out vengeance to people he didn’t like.  
  
From the couch, Serena groaned and sat up. Her hair, loose and not constricted by her ponytail, dripped down to her collarbone in sleek honey waves, though it was admittedly frizzy and sticking up awkwardly on one side. She rubbed her eyes, yawning. “What’s going on? What  _time_  is it?”  
  
“Uh...” Shauna felt like she should help out Celie first, because, y’know, she just got pecked in the face, which probably fucking hurt, but the Kantonian was already on her feet and rubbing the tender spot with a scowl, shrugging off pain once again. With that issue sorta resolved and Serena impatiently awaiting an answer, Shauna made the decision to glance over at the digital clock on the nightstand. “A lil’ past nine.”  
  
Serena straightened, the sleep vanishing from her face in favor of wide-eyed alarm. “Quelle!?”  
  
To Shauna’s knowledge, “quelle” meant “what” and Serie had a habit of subbing Kalosian for Common, like, thirty percent of the time. It must be a Snowbelle thing, because Cal did it too, sometimes, but he always corrected himself after. Shauna yawned and rubbed one eye with her fist. “Why? What’s the big deal?”  
  
“The  _big deal_  is—”  
  
“You were supposed to be up at seven-thirty,” Alistair interrupted in that smoky baritone of his. Jeez, Shauna could still remember when he was a cute little Fletchling that liked hanging around on Cal’s shoulder, all innocent and chirpy and singing sweet songs on sunny days. But that was ages ago, back when they were eleven and things were so much simpler. “Your ginger friend looked ready to blow a gasket.”  
  
“ _Seven_  thirty?” Delphi gasped, sounding scandalized.  
  
Celestine scowled as she stood and tried to untangle the wrap-around of the sheets and her inky hair. A few pear leaves fluttered to the floor in the struggled. “Who the fuck wakes up at seven thirty in the middle of the summer?”  
  
Serena looked mildly offended. “When you work at Laboratoires de Sycomore, you expect you deal with insane hours. ‘Scuse me for being a morning person.”  
  
Celestine looked at Serena like she had started pull dancing while singing opera. The blankets slipped off her hips and fell to the ground with a muted thump, dislodging more pear leaves and sending them fluttering like butterflies. “What is  _wrong_  with you Kalosians?”  
  
Serie ignored the remark and instead whirled around to shoot Shauna a chilly glare that made the Hoennian reel back. Oh, wow, must run in the Rousseau family, those death glares, yes siree. Could stop a tidal wave in its tracks, it could. “Shauna! Didn’t you set the alarm!?”  
  
Shauna looked away and starting rousing Mint as an excuse to avert her eyes. The Chespin was sprawled out on the pillows, drooling a little bit. Shauna really hoped she wouldn’t have to pay dry cleaning expenses. “Uh... I was supposed to set an alarm?”  
  
“ _Shauna_!”  
  
Mint rolled onto her side and groaned. “Dammit, why. Do you hate sleep?”  
  
Shauna rolled her eyes. Lazybones Chespin. “Only at nine AM, Mint. C’mon. Get up.”  
  
“Screw you,” Mint growled, curling up tighter. “I was having a nice dream...”  
  
The door slammed sharply. Shauna turned to find that Serena was gone and the couch was now vacant. Probably gone to change. Honestly, Shauna didn’t see the problem with changing in front of people, unless one of those people was the object of a crush or something like that.  
  
“I think my job here is done,” Alistair announced, stretching his wings out. His muscles rippled, wicked powerful. A real testament of just how good a job Cal had done training the Fletchinder. “Meet you all at the lobby, ladies.”  
  
Delphi peered up at the bird, looking a little annoyed. “Why did you even do that? It was incredibly rude.”  
  
“Payback, mostly.” Alistair offered an avian shrug, noncommittal. Then, as an afterthought, “A little for amusement.”  
  
Celestine’s glare could rival Serena’s. “Go tell your Trainer to screw himself with a cactus.”  
  
“Hard to do that when all we have are juniper bushes in the area,” Alistair quipped flatly. He took to the air, soaring out the window with a few strong flaps and a light, “Adieu, ma loulouette.”  
  
Celestine turned to Shauna with a puzzled frown. “What does that mean?”  
  
“Uh... ‘adieu’ means ‘farewell’,” Shauna answered, hopping out of the bed. The carpet felt gross under her bare feet, stained and worn and torn. “And... that last part, I dunno. Hell, I’ve lived in Kalos almost ten years but I never learned the language.”  
  
Celestine shrugged. “Hey, my mom was Kalosian and she tried to teach me when I was a kid, but I never got the hang of it. Actually, the one who actually picked it up was Cer— Where are you going?”  
  
Shauna had scooped Mint into her arms and was halfway to the door when she paused. “I was gonna go talk to the guys and maybe rip... Cal’s ear... off... What were you saying?”  
  
“About what?”  
  
“Learning Kalosian.”  
  
Celestine gave Shauna a dubious look. “That I sucked?”  
  
“No. No, the other thing.”  
  
“What other thing?”  
  
Shauna may have only known Celestine for a handful of days, but she knew better than to pry. She shook her head. “Never mind. You and Serie get dressed. I’m gonna go try and calm Trevor down.”  
  
“Aren’t you in your pyjamas?” Delphi asked, his brows scrunched up in confusion.  
  
“Yeah, but a sleeveless flannel shirt and long pants is more decent than a set of lacey undies.”  
  
Celestine was bending down to collect the discarded bedsheets, but that comment made her head snap up and her face flush scarlet. “Shut up!”  
  
Shauna laughed and winked and slipped out the door just in time to avoid a pillow aimed at her face.  
  
The kitchen and dining area were just through a doorway, so the lobby smelled heavily of buttered bread, a smell that Shauna had heavily come to associate with Kalos in general. Man, this region loved its pastries. Or “pâtisseries”, as they were called here. Ah, that wasn’t the point.  
  
She could see the guys occupying a table in a far corner of the dining area, where the food had been spread out in an awkward attempt at a colorful display and plastic tables and chairs occupied the majority of the space, from her vantage point of the lobby. It looked like Tierno was trying to engage Calem in conversation, but the Trainer looked like absolute shit—his chin propped up with his fist while he struggled to keep his eyes open. Realizing that he was being largely ignored, Tierno started to a get a little annoyed, which was rare for the usually laidback dancer, and Calem responded while looking apologetic, but their words were lost in the distance. Meanwhile, though, Tierno’s Corphish Phillipe was more successful in his pursuit of a dialog with Hayami, who was perched on the edge of the table and eagerly peering down at the other Water-Type. Their conversation was much more animated and amicable, though Hayami mirrored her Trainer’s subdued demeanor. Off to the side and standing, radiating the utmost impatience, Trevor tapped his foot rhythmically, while his Pikachu Clair, sitting nearby Hayami, balanced calming her Trainer down with munching on a half-eaten croissant. Poor Clair’s efforts looked pretty fruitless from where Shauna stood.  
  
The sight of a furious Trevor DuPont was almost enough to make Shauna duck behind the reception counter and never come back, but she sucked in a breath and held her head up high as she strolled into the room like she owned the place. Confidence was key, after all.  
  
Trevor locked onto her the moment she entered the room. “ _Where have you be—_ ”  
  
“Calem, your bird came into our room and pecked Celestine in the face,” Shauna announced, because it was easier to deal with Calem than Trevor. Cal was the one in the wrong here and at least he would be less scary than Trevor on the subject of punctuality.  
  
Calem bolted upright, eyes wide with alarm. From this distance, Shauna could make out the dark shadows clinging to his grey eyes. Jeez, someone hadn’t gotten much sleep. “He  _didn’t_.”  
  
“Yup. Right on her forehead. She screamed bloody murder and woke us all up.” Shauna turned to smile apologetically at Trevor. “And I was supposed to set an alarm, apparently, but Serie didn’t tell me? Lypámai.”  
  
Trevor glared. Wow, everybody she knew could send death glares, which really said a lot about Shauna’s choice in friends, didn’t it?  
  
Calem, meanwhile, groaned and let his face sink into his hands. “ _Goddess_ , why? Why would he do that?”  
  
“You didn’t send him?”  
  
“ _Hell_  no! I don’t want to make things worse with her.”  
  
Shauna blinked. Okay, wow. Calem Lafayette was being mature. Go figure.  
  
Thankfully, Tierno LeBlanc was there to set her straight. “He and Celestine got tangled up in something else. I’m trying to get him to talk about it but he keeps shutting me down.”  
  
“I  _told_  you, it’s not my place,” Calem snapped, raising his head.  
  
Shauna felt the urge to groan rise up in her throat, but she tamped it down because she needed to be diplomatic, especially considering Cal and Celie had no plans on being diplomatic towards each other. She pet Mint’s head, the Chespin was still dozing in her arms, to help distract her. “Goddamn it, Cali, what’dya do now?”  
  
Calem’s jaw dropped. “Why do you think  _I_  did something?”  
  
“‘Cause you’re petty and antagonistic.”  
  
He held his hands up. “Look, I’ll admit, I didn’t handle things with Lavieaux all that well yesterday, but I’m gonna try and be more civil from now on.”  
  
“Based on the fact that you sent Alistair to peck her,” Trevor deadpanned.  
  
“ _I_  didn’t send him! I have no idea why he did that!”  
  
“Here’s your chance to ask,” Clair squeaked, licking crumbs from her paws. “He’s comin’ in through the window.”  
  
It was true. Alistair swooped through the suspiciously open window—like, seriously, why was it open?—and landed daintily on the back of Calem’s chair. Shauna still couldn’t wrap her mind around the strength in the Fletchinder’s wings, how each wingbeat could slice the air.  
  
Hayami was the first to react. “Is it true you assault Lavieaux Celestine-san earlier?”  
  
Alistair sighed, deflating a little. “Okay, look. She deserved it—”  
  
“ _I don’t care_ ,” Calem snapped. Hayami and Alistair both straightened, stunned by this, and exchanged bewildered glances. “Don’t  _ever_  do that again, do you understand?”  
  
Alistair blinked, shrinking back a little. And he had good reason to be startled. Cal didn’t raise his voice with his team. Not unless he was incredibly pissed. (Shauna wondered if sleep deprivation was making his temper shorter than usual—it seemed a likely explanation). “O-Okay.”  
  
Thankfully, there was no time for the tension to sink in because Serena rushed in, fully dressed in a white button-up blouse, a pleated blue miniskirt, leather boots, and black tights. Shauna really had to wonder how the blonde was so well put together all the damn time. The Hoennian wasn’t as into fashion as was Serie, but that didn’t mean she wasn’t interested in clothing as a whole. She just didn’t get how Serie had so much money to spend on fancy clothing. Maybe because she was working a full-time job in a well-funded facility under a generous employer. Yeah, that probably had something to do it.  
  
“Hey.” She raced over, her blonde hair tied back into a braid that bounced with each stride. “Trevor, I am so sorry we’re late—”  
  
“It’s fine,” Trevor said, waving his hand dismissively. “Shauna already explained how she screwed up with the alarm.”  
  
“Screw you,” Shauna huffed. She may not have set an alarm, but Serie hadn’t mentioned anything about setting on in the first place, so how was she supposed to know if no one told her?  
  
Serie sighed. “Did she also mention what happened last night?”  
  
A wave of cold, frigid horror went through Shauna just then as she pictured Cal and Trevs’s responses. Tierno would be fine with it, she knew, but  _dear Eon Twins Calem and Trevor_.  
  
“What happened last night?” Trevor asked.  
  
_Oh my god Serie no_ , Shauna thought desperately.  _Parakaló, Serie, parakaló._  
  
“Shauna outed us to Celestine.”  
  
“Se misó!” Shauna wailed, slipping into a seat and slumping into it. She buried her head in her hands, too fearful of their reactions.  
  
“You  _outed_  us!?” Calem cried.  
  
There was the sound of chairs clattering, metal and plastic crashing into itself, and Shauna looked up to see Celestine—fully dressed in a low-cut maroon crop top, pre-ripped skinny jeans, and high-heeled black leather boots—her eyes wide like a Deerling in headlights as she tried to pick a chair up off the ground, where it had been knocked over. Delphi, on her shoulder, mirrored her expression, but his eyes were fixed on Celestine’s clumsy attempt at navigating the fallen chairs. The moment attention fell on her, she dropped the chair and bolted, stumbling and tripping over chair legs, out to of the room.  
  
Honestly, Shauna couldn’t blame her.

* * *

The door slammed behind her, and Celestine pressed her back against it with a heavy sigh, the surface of the wood cool against the exposed small of her back. It was fair to assume that the aftermath of last night would rear its ugly head, but she just didn’t want to be a part of it.  
  
Calem had sounded furious. Celestine imagined those steely grey eyes on her and shuddered. The last thing she wanted was to make things worse, and if Alistair’s little prank hadn’t done that (Serena was very insistent that Cal wouldn’t pull something like that, spiteful as he was, and it was probably the Fletchinder’s idea in the first place. “He has an Impish nature,” the blonde explained), then this certainly would. She wished she could go back and pretend it had never happened, but the world didn’t have rewind button.  
  
“What was that about?” Delphi asked. His breath was warm against her cheek.  
  
Celestine pulled away from the door and edged closer to her bed. The sheets were still hopelessly rumbled, despite her and Serena’s best efforts to clean the room up earlier. Eventually, Serena told the Kantonian to leave it, because every second they delayed would only piss Trevor off more. It had felt wrong to leave it, but Celestine really hadn’t had a say in the matter.   
  
“It’s... complicated. I’ll tell you when you’re older.”  
  
“...does this mean we’re not getting beignets?”  
  
She sat down, sweeping her curtain of hair out behind her like a cape to keep from sitting on it. Frankly, she didn’t know what “beignets” were, but they were probably a pastry or bread item of some kind. Maman used to say Kalos was famous for two things—flowers and baked goods. “Probably not, kiddo.”  
  
Delphi paused for a while, then he jumped off her shoulder and landed deftly on the sheets. He peered up at her with big, sad eyes. “What about croissants?”  
  
“Delphi, until they settle things out, we’re not going to be eating anything—including beignets or cressants.”  
  
“ _Croissants_.”  
  
“That’s basically what I said.”  
  
“Your accent gets in the way.”  
  
“Dammit, I don’t— Never mind.” She rested her jaw in her fists and hunched over, propping her elbows up against her legs, and cast him a sidelong glance. Compared to the timid Fennekin from yesterday, this Delphi was bright-eyed and bushy-tailed, bright and talkative. “So, did something happen today that put you in a good mood?”  
  
“Huh?”  
  
“You’re awful chatty, compared to yesterday.”  
  
“Oh!” Delphi sat back on his hunches, nose twitching. “Yeah, I just. After the pact we made last night, I figured I should be more optimistic, y’know?”  
  
“Eh?”  
  
“Well, yesterday, all I could think about was how you weren’t what I’d imagined you’d be, and feeling sorry for myself.” His ears dropped a little, momentarily, and he averted his eyes—but then he snapped back to her and there was a gleam of determination there that had been absent yesterday. “But then I realized that probably wasn’t fair to you. My job as a Starter is to be a leader for the team, and having a poor attitude is bad form. I mean, I know you said we’re not keeping... uh, Max, right? But I just figured that I’d better start sooner rather than later, and since we’re both trying and all... I mean, Oncle always said that life was unpredictable, but not in a bad way, so. I dunno, maybe we could make a really great team.”  
  
A flush of pleasant warmth went through her and she allowed herself a small smile. “Well, that’s good to hear.”  
  
There was a knock at the door, breaking the spell. Celestine stifled a sigh as she stood, making her way to the door and opening it. Probably Shauna or Serena, wanting her to come and talk things out with the boys.  
  
That wasn’t the case, though. To her surprise, it was Tierno who was standing on the other side, leaning slightly against the doorframe. When she hesitated in surprise, the dancer drew a friendly grin and waved a little.  
  
“Hey,” he said.  
  
“...hi.” Well, this was awkward as hell and heaven and everything between. Celestine shifted awkwardly, caught between the urge to duck under the bed and sinking into the ground. This would not end well.  
  
“Are you okay?” Tierno asked, sounding a little concerned.  
  
She realized with a jolt that, despite his size, she was an inch taller than him, even without her heels adding another two inches. Three entire inches, and she had to peer down at him a little. Okay, wow.  
  
“Celie?”  
  
“Gomen,” she blurted. “I sort of forced Shauna to tell me and I can understand how that might have been insensitive and... Yeah.”  
  
To her surprise, Tierno burst out laughing. Celestine shot a bemused glance at Delphi over her shoulder, then turned back to the dancer in bewilderment.  
  
“Something I said?”  
  
“No, no.” Tierno straightened a little, a shade of amusement still in his voice. “I’m not mad about that. Shauna already explained that you were cool with it and it doesn’t bother you or anything, and I honestly don’t care. I mean, it’s not like I’m hiding it or anything.”  
  
“But Calem and Trevor—”  
  
“Well that’s  _them_ ,” Tierno said with a dismissive wave. “Don’t worry about them. They’ll cool off. Figured you’d be staying here in the meantime, and I just wanted to know if you wanted me to grab you something.”  
  
“That’s...” Celestine didn’t know what to say. It was so nice, so sweet, and it was  _directed at her_ , of all things. “That’s very sweet of you. Arigato.”  
  
“No prob. So what’ll it be?”  
  
Celestine faltered. It occurred to her that she knew nothing about Kalosian breakfast foods. “I supposed they don’t have okonomiyaki, do they?”  
  
“Huh?”  
  
“Yeah, thought so.” She forced an awkward smile. “Just. Use your best judgement, I guess.”  
  
“They’ve got some honey cakes.”  
  
“Sounds delicious.”  
  
“Okay, I’ll be right back.” Tierno gave a little wave before retreating.  
  
She leaned against the door and crossed her arms, forcing herself to relax. He’d said he wasn’t mad, so there was no point in feeling so awkward and tense and yeah, maybe the only other time they’d really interacted there had been others present—not to mention the dreaded Alistair Incident three days ago. But if she was going to go on this Journey, then she needed to get used to people, to little random acts of kindness like this. Just because it had been a long time since she’d interacted with someone who either wished harm upon her or was completely indifferent about her well-being, didn’t mean the whole world was out to get her. There were some people who didn’t know about her, erm, “condition”, and maybe wouldn’t care, and some that were just genuinely nice regardless.  
  
And... it wasn’t bad.  
  
The sound of paws meeting carpet made Celestine glance over her shoulder. “What’re okono... what did you say earlier?” Delphi asked as he padded over.  
  
“Okonomiyaki. They’re basically Kantonese pancakes.”  
  
“...huh. I thought everything was fish over there.”  
  
“ _Kind of_ , but—”  
  
The sound of flapping wings interrupted Celestine. They weren’t Alistair’s wings—not strong and whiplash, capable of rending the air with a single beat. Not, these were clumsy and quick, not deliberate in the slightest, untrained and unmastered. The Kantonian stifled a sigh as she turned to the window, still open, and sure enough, a mottled brown bird emerged, fluttering over to the bedpost and radiating annoyance as he perched.  
  
“You are  _impossible_  to find,” was the first thing out of Tanner’s beak. Celestine stifled a groan and pressed her temple against the door, trying to muster patience, as he kept going. “It’s incredibly rude, y’know. I was looking for you  _all_  morning, and I couldn’t find you fucking  _anywhere_. So I asked this Fletchinder—he looked trained and Trainers don’t usually come around these parts, y’know? So I figured he might know you, or his Trainer might know you—and  _let me tell you_ , he was  _incredibly_  rude about it. Called you a bitch and half, and I was all like, ‘well that’s the future Champion you’re talking to’, and he just gave me this  _look_ , like he thought he was  _so_  much better than me.  
  
“ _God_ , those damn phoenix wannabes are so goddamn  _arrogant_ , like,  _oh look at me, I shoot fire and I’m faster than you_ —well guess  _what_ , sparky, my line has  _way_  more stamina than your flashy, good-for-nothing line. And I mean there’s nothing  _wrong_  with being fast, but when you burn up all your energy—ah.  _Burn_. Hah. That’s funny. But, anyway— Uh...what was I talking about again?”  
  
“...I don’t know. I stopped listening again,” Delphi admitted sheepishly.  
  
“Why are you here,” Celestine drawled.  
  
At this, Tanner straightened. “Right! I wanted to see how the kid was doing.”  
  
“Fine. I haven’t let him out of his Ball yet, but I was thinking of doing it later today.”  
  
“Sounds good,” the Pidgey said proudly, as though he were the one who’d thought of it.  
  
The sound of knocking made Celestine jump. Tierno had returned with a paper plate of glazed, honey-colored tea cakes and blinked at Tanner.  
  
“Um,” the dancer began, “should I call the owner?”  
  
“What? Oh, no, no.” Celestine tried to smile and it felt weird. She really sucked at smiling today, didn’t she? “I, uh. Met him yesterday. He wants to join my team but I already made a catch, so he’s gonna follow me around until I come to a new area and catch him—but he won’t go near the Forest.”  
  
“Why would I?” Tanner said loudly, and Celestine stifled a groan. “It’s fully a big, predatory Bugs that can pick you off if you want to. You should  _never_  underestimate Bugs, I tell y—”  
  
Celestine tuned him out after that and turned back to Tierno. “Gomen nasai, Tierno. He can go on like this forever.”  
  
“S’okay. Trevs does this, sometimes. Shauna too, actually. And Cal can rant for hours, so, I’m used to this.” Tierno handed her the plate, and she smiled and thanked him, kneeling down to give one to Delphi. The Fennekin licked the pastry up at lightning speed, his tongue wet and warm against her fingers. “You’re gonna catch him on Route Three then?”  
  
She glanced up at him. “Eh?”  
  
“Route Three—Ouvert Way. It’s just beyond Santalune Forest.”  
  
Celestine blinked. “It’s a separate Route?”  
  
“Yup.”  
  
It wasn’t like that in Kanto. The Kantonese Route Two fully encompassed Viridian Forest, beginning and end, and a path even wove around the Forest for those who didn’t want to waste their time navigating the dark, shadowy labyrinth. But this was not Kanto, and she had no idea why that was so hard to wrap her head around.  
  
“...oh.” She glanced over at Tanner, still yacking, and stood. Took a honey cake into her hands and bit into it—it was cloyingly sweet, too much sugar and the bread had gone cold, a little stale. She swallowed with some difficulty. “I guess that settles it, then.”  
  
“Celestine!”  
  
A shout form the hallway made Celestine jumped. Tierno flattened himself against the doorjam just as a blur of green and brown and tan bolted into the room. Delphi was a little less lucky, and he got caught and bowled over by whatever it was, his foxy yelp splitting the air and nearly bursting Celestine’s eardrums.  
  
They rolled for a bit and knocked into the nightstand, and for a moment, Celestine was worried the lamp would topple over, but luckily it didn’t. The tumble revealed itself to consist of not only Delphi, but Shauna’s Chespin Mint, who had the Fennekin pinned on his stomach. She looked frazzled and her chest heaved a little as she panted.  
  
A beat of silence.  
  
“What the hell?” Tanner chirped.  
  
“Celestine!” Mint leaped off Delphi and immediately latched onto the Trainer’s leg. The force of the Chespin barreling into her nearly had Celestine toppling over and she had to grab onto the door for support. “Please tell me he hasn’t asked you to escort him through Santalune Forest.”  
  
“He hasn’t.”  
  
“Good. You’re coming with Shauna and me.”  
  
“What?”  
  
“The pathways in Viridian Forest and Santalune Forest are almost identical,” Tierno explained, causing Celestine to turn to him. “See, after the Crimson War, Kalos sent men to help clean up some of the damage done to the Routes—which made sense, ‘cause I here a lot of the battles were fought on Kantonese soil—and Kanto sent Kalos a few statues in return. Like the big fountain on Route Four, that was made in Kanto. Anyway, Kalosian hands made the trails in Viridian Forest, and they later made the trails in Santalune Forest. Basically—same lumber company, same pathway, and if you can navigate one, you can navigate the other.”  
  
“And you’re from Viridian City,” Mint added, “which is right next door. So you’re practically a bona fide escort.”  
  
“Um...” Celestine felt obligated to point out that she’d only ever gone into Viridian Forest once when she was twelve and had promptly gotten lost. She never had gotten all the way through, but she held her tongue and continued eating her honey cake. As she chewed, a suspicion bloomed in her head and nagged her. She turned to Tierno. “Were you being nice to me because you wanted an escort?”  
  
“I was being nice to you ‘cause I’m nice in general and it seemed like you were having a hard time,” Tierno answered, sounding only slightly offended. “I guess that would’ve been a perk... But it looks like Shauna’s kinda called dibs.”  
  
Celestine felt a twinge of guilt for suggesting it and hid it by scowled down at Mint, still clinging to her calf. “...looks like it.”  
  
“C’mon!” Mint said, tugging the Trainer by her boot and succeeded in lifting her leg off the ground. “We’re leaving soon!”  
  
Celestine yelped and clung to the door for balance, trying and failing to shake the Chespin loose. Luckily, Celestine had finished off the honey cakes and only had an empty paper plate in her hands. “M-Matte! Doesn’t Shauna need to change out of her pyjamas?”  
  
“Serie brought her stuff to her and she changed in the bathroom, now  _c’mon_.”

* * *

Long story short, Celestine managed to free herself from Mint’s grip with some help from Tierno and Delphi. Tanner left and said he’d meet them on Route Three, something Celestine was admittedly dreading. They did some last minute fixing up of the room before checking out. The entire group had congregated in front of the rest stop, all broken off into their own groups.  
  
Shauna—fully dressed, true to Mint’s claims—and Serena were both talking to Trevor, who seemed much calmer than when Celestine had last seen them. Calem was off to the side, seemingly trying to mediate an argument between Hayami and Alistair, each perched on one shoulder and trying to converse through their Trainer’s head, much to his annoyance.  
  
Mint immediately bolted to join her Trainer. Celestine, meanwhile, shot Tierno an apologetic look and made for Calem.  
  
Hayami and Alistair, noticing Celestine’s presence, quieted, and Calem tensed, eyes dark and suspicious. It sent a shiver of dread through Celestine, and she hesitated. In a moment of weakness, she convinced herself this was a bad idea and almost turned away. She didn’t want to do this. She didn’t want to know what he thought of her, of her “condition”.  
  
Delphi’s cool nose pressed against her cheek. She turned to him, startled. He had resumed his place on her shoulder, perching like he belonged there, and maybe he did. The look he gave her was one of encouragement, one that said  _don’t worry I’m here_. And it warmed her, because he didn’t even know what this was about, and yet he was still giving her moral support.  
  
_I dunno, maybe we could make a really great team._  
  
She took a breath to steel her nerves and stepped forward.  
  
It was awkward—her heels made her slightly taller than him, so she had to look down just a little, and it made her uncomfortable. She had to force herself not to look down at her feet or over his head or off to the side as she announced, “I need to talk to you.”  
  
He sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Look, about what Shauna said—”  
  
“What? Oh, forget that. I don’t care.” When he dropped his hand and shot her a dubious look, she rolled her eyes. “It’s really not my place to judge. You’re you, I’m me. End of story. That’s not what I want to talk about.”  
  
“...Alistair this morning, or yesterday?”  
  
“A little of both,” she admitted, feelingly oddly sheepish. She’d always hated confrontations of the verbal kind. Too many landmines to navigate. “And... something else.”  
  
“I bet she’s worried about whether or not I saw her underwear,” Alistair said.  
  
Celestine’s eyes snapped to the Fletchinder and a pang of dread and mortification overcame her. She hadn’t even  _considered_ —  
  
Calem shot his bird a firm look, which his Froakie mimicked. “ _Alistair_ ,” Hayami hissed, the way someone would say  _behave_.  
  
“Hey, if she didn’t want any peeping toms, she shouldn’t be sleeping in lacy pink lingerie.” Alistair paused just long enough for a wave of mortification to wash over her and her face to flood with heat, for Calem’s jaw to drop and for Hayami’s eyes to narrow and for Delphi’s ears to stand upright. Then, to put a cherry on the embarrassment Sunday, he added, “Rather tasteful, by the way.”  
  
Time slowed. Celestine’s face felt hot, blazing hot. Calem whipped his head back to face her, and his jaw started to move, but there were no words, there was no sound, only a pounding in Celestine’s ears and beyond that, white noise.  
  
She saw her hand move before the action even registered.  
  
_Smack._  
  
And just like that, time went back to normal. Celestine whirled around and she heard her hair smack something, but she didn’t care. She couldn’t see her expression, but it was probably furious enough to match the inferno of outrage and humiliation blazing inside her.  
  
“SHAUNA WE’RE LEAVING!” the Kantonian shouted, storming off, and she didn’t once look back.

* * *

The last time she’d been this embarrassed, Celestine had been ten and some perverted kid had thought it was funny to yank her skirt up. She’d kicked him in the shin, hard, and had sworn off all skirts but the school uniforms—and even then, she wore spats underneath from that day onward.  
  
And still, Shauna insisted she was overreacting.  
  
“It was probably just Alistair being a bitch,” Shauna said, jogging in order to keep up with Celestine’s brisk, anger-driven pace. “Cal doesn’t do that sort of stuff. Ever.”  
  
“I was publicly humiliated,” Celestine spat. Off to the side, Delphi spat an Ember at another Pidgey, training while Tanner and Max flew over head and Mint encouraged from the sidelines. The Fennekin proved to be fairly self-sufficient, despite his mediocre battle performance the other day.  
  
“You were publicly humiliated yesterday and you didn’t slap anyone.”  
  
Celestine stopped and turned sharply on her heel, levelling Shauna with a glare that could melt steel. “I don’t care.”  
  
But Shauna shrugged it off and sighed. “Okay, I guess you just need time to cool off.”  
  
The Kantonian felt another surge of irritation, but tamped it down and said nothing—only huffed and kept walking.  
  
At their pace, they would make it to the Forest within the next hour. The trees loomed ahead of them, deep and dark and lovely, foliage a mosaic of emeralds and jades and olive greens. It was beautiful, and the sight sent a stab of nostalgia through Celestine. If she stared at it too long, she could imagine branches stretching high overhead, leaves burning bright green under the Kantonian sun—aptly named Viridian.  
  
She averted her eyes to the surrounding grass, where Delphi had bested a Bunnelby with little difficulty. He noticed her staring and perked up, panting a little, but his ears tall and straight and his tail swaying happily.  
  
Celestine tried not to think about the last time she’d been this close to a Forest. She tried not to think about the last time she’d been on Kanto’s Route Two, about the last time she’d been in Viridian City—about how much everything had probably changed since she set foot in it fight years ago. Viridian City was, after all, always in flux, always growing, always becoming greener and brighter and busier.  
  
“Hey!” came a voice. Celestine snapped to attention. The speaker was a boyish kid in a loose orange T-shirt and beige shorts and a backwards blue hat. A Field Trainer—a Youngster. “Either of you two girls League Trainers?”  
  
“Technically speaking, yeah,” Shauna answered before Celestine could stop her, “but neither of us’re really taking on the Gym Circuit.”  
  
“Doesn’t matter,” the Youngster said. “If you’re registered as League Trainers, then I hafta battle you. Field Trainer contract n’ all.”  
  
Shauna blinked and Celestine sighed. “Delphi!” the Kantonian called, and the Fennekin perked to attention. “C’mere!”  
  
He bounded over, sleek and golden in the sun. The tip of his tail looked like an open flame—but it was not alight, she reminded her self. No flames, no scales, no claws. Just sunny yellow fur and oversized ears and big, innocent amber eyes. “Oui, Trainer?”  
  
She jerked her head towards the Youngster. “You up for a Trainer battle?”  
  
A chance to make up for his poor performance from yesterday. He would probably jump at the chance—and he did. He bristled and his eyes blazed with excitement, and he even need to yip out “yes!” before he bounded out in front of her, taking a battle stance.  
  
The Youngster grinned and sent out a Zigzagoon, which was as bristly and bright-eyed as its Trainer.  
  
Shauna loudly announced she would ref and bounced over to the middle of the makeshift battlefield. Mint, Max, and Tanner caught up soon after.  
  
_Non-Reaper_ , Celestine reminded herself as Shauna announced the battle to commence.  
  
The Youngster ordered a Tackle. Celestine had Delphi retaliated with an Ember. As flames soared and the combatants blurred with motion, she couldn’t help but think back to her early years, to the first time she fought pesky Normal-Types with a fearsome Fire-Type partner.  
  
But it was different now. Time had passed and things had changed and starting over was  _hard_.  
  
But it wasn’t bad.

* * *

The trees hugged each other the way an old friend would, and they fit together like the pieces of an old puzzle some god had decided to solve on a whim and left for humanity to take shelter under. Only a few daring slants of sunlight managed to knife through and dapple the earth in subtle, wan shades of gold. It was like the blanket you pulled over your head in the middle of the night as a child, warm and dark and safe.  
  
Except the air was crisp and cool and the shadows were so deep Celestine felt like she was being swallowed whole. Not that she would mind being swallowed up, not by this Forest, this place where the wildlife chirped and chattered and hummed, all abuzz and alight with curiosity— _who are these strangers?_  they asked,  _Are they strong or weak, cowardly or resilient?_  
  
Santalune had the same feel as Viridian, the same oldness and dark mystique that all the Old Forests—remnants of when the regions were wild and not yet civilized by the Leagues—seemed to carry. Perhaps the air of the Old Forests were universal, oblivious to the boundaries of nations and languages and cultures.  
  
And Celestine could understand how the paths of the two, Viridian and Santalune, might be seen as similar, for the ground of both Forests dipped and bobbed and rose up, hills and valleys and a twisting path that deftly navigated them all. They were eerily similar, but not identical. Santalune was much more serpentine in comparison, because while the trees in Viridian Forest were all ramrod straight, the trees here coiled and unwound, as if frozen in the throes of a festive tribal dance or yielding to the force of some great, invisible storm. They were also much older, their trunks thicker and the branches reaching higher—they were gargantuan, larger than life, and it made Celestine feel tiny in comparison.  
  
Even the paths were different. Whereas Viridian had been clearly manmade, too straight and free of any intrusive roots and made up of pale, loose sand that had been placed by human hands and gave away easily underfoot, the path of Santalune was much more natural. In fact, it was less a path and more a winding strip of land in which the sticks and fallen branches had been cleared away and set aside in too-neat piles, the only real hint of human intervention, and where the grass chose to grow a little less thickly, revealing the soft, dark earth underneath. Thin, spindly roots emerged from the ground, crisscrossing and spiderwebbing, more complex than the human nervous system, and that was something that Viridian had lacked. There had never been any undergrowth in Viridian, instead a thick layer of fallen leaves and enough bright green ferns to make up for it, but here the undergrowth was so dense and dark that Celestine couldn’t see five feet through the thicket—and the trees had many heads, blooming and parting from a single trunk like the mythical hydra.  
  
The trees parted around the path, rising around it like a ribcage, like old twisted bones. They were too warped for the analogy to be exact, but Celestine thought, as she trotted down the path at a leisurely pace, that it still felt as through she were walking along the Forest’s spine, vertebrae by vertebrae. On either side of her and all around, it was as if a great pair of lungs were breathing, expanding and contracting—and there was a heartbeat, something subtle and soft but somehow deafening at the same time.   
  
Celestine breathed in, tasting earth and sunlight and shadow. The air was the same, though, and the color as well. Most of the trees were wrapped in rough, archaic brown bark—though some adorned themselves in emerald moss like luxury robes—and the canopy ranged in enough hues of green to rival any rainbow. A few patches of moss cut through the dark earth, like some deity had grown bored of the one color and had spray painted a few choice areas with vibrant green. It was exactly like the Viridian Forest in that sense, the way the pathway wound out in a labyrinthine fashion and the way the trees stretched high over her head.  
  
As she hopped onto a particularly thick root, belonging to an old, larger-than-life tree, she felt like she was twelve again, a young girl with a taste for adventure plunging into the mysterious Forest for the first time.

* * *

_“A-Are you **sure**  this is a good idea?” A young girl, somewhere between nine and ten and with her hair pulled back into high pigtails, peered up at her older companion with wide, fearful jade eyes.  
  
Next to her stood an older girl, twelve or thirteen and tall for her age. She tossed her high ponytail over her shoulder and grinned down at her younger companion. “ **Of course**  it is. Why wouldn’t it be?”  
  
They stood at the entrance of Viridian Forest, which was large and dark and beautifully mysterious, thriving and burgeoning and so green it burned your eyes. The trees parted around a single dirt path, which the two occupied, hands clasped together and fingers interlocking.  
  
“Because you don’t get your traveler’s permit ‘till tomorrow!” the younger protested. “And it’s full of gross Bugs!”  
  
The older bent down a little, her inky bangs dripping into her sapphire eyes. “What, you don’t think I can protect you from Bugs?”  
  
At this, the younger bit her lip. “I didn’t say that...”  
  
“‘Cause that’s real mean of you—doubting my abilities as a Trainer.”  
  
“I didn’t mean to—”  
  
The younger was interrupted by the elder bursting to laughter. The elder cupped a hand to her mouth, grinning mischievously through her fingers. “Jeez, I was just  **kidding**. But really, don’t worry. Me n’ Draco’ll protect you.”  
  
“...really?”  
  
“Yeah, really! Now c’mon!” The elder released her companion's hand—such a simple act, fingers slipping through fingers and suddenly the contact was  **gone** , a fatal mistake—and bounded off into the woods, the trees and the shadows swallowing her whole. “Ikuso!”  
  
“M-Matteo!” the younger cried, racing after her companion. “Come back!  **Neesan**!”_

* * *

“Hey Celie!”  
  
Celestine jumped and nearly lost her balance, but luckily she was able to grab hold of the tree trunk and regain it before she fell. It was hard enough to balance on the root with heels and sudden loud exclamations would not help in any way, shape, or form.  
  
The Kantonian whirled around to face Shauna, who was standing at the base of the tree roots. She looked even tinier in comparison to these unnaturally huge trees, and Mint, Delphi, and Max looked absolutely  _miniscule_.  
  
Tanner had left them the minute they entered the Forest, so Max had taken to perching on Shauna’s shoulder, reveling in her presence while his parental substitute was absent. Mint was, as ever, was cradled the nook of Shauna’s crossed arms. Delphi stood dutifully close to Celestine at the base of the root, his tail wagging happily—he’d been in a good mood ever since they’d beaten that Youngster outside the Forest.  
  
As it turned out, mercy money changing hands was normal in Kalos, even during Non-Reaper Battles. She’d gotten a small amount of cash for the win, something that was pleasantly surprising and quite pleasing at the same time. It almost made her want to battle the Field Trainers stationed here in the Forest, and with Shauna offering to heal up her team with the healing items Grace-san had given her, it was hard not to seriously consider the possibility.  
  
“Shauna, don’t do that,” Celestine snapped.  
  
“Sorry! Can you come back down? I don’t wanna get neck cramps having to look up at you.”  
  
“Okay, okay,” Celestine relented. She hopped down from the root, landing deftly in front of them. Delphi’s warmth brushed up against her shin. “By the way, there’s a fork in the road a few miles down, just like in Viridian. It’s almost eerie, actually.”  
  
“Yeah, I hear the paths are supposed to be super similar,” Shauna chirped, which Tierno had already told Celestine. “Any idea which one we’re supposed to take?”  
  
“If it’s like Viridian, then we have to take the right path,” Celestine said. “But just in case, I think I might have seen a sign, so, I guess we’ll see.”  
  
“Guess we should go see then!” And with that, Shauna skipped over to the main path. Celestine sighed and followed after her, Delphi at her heels.  
  
_Speaking_  of heels, Celestine stopped dead the moment she set foot on the path. The high heels of her boot sunk a little into the damp, too-soft earth. She lifted her left foot up, only to wince at the mud that clung to the sole of her boot.  
  
“Well, damn.”  
  
Shauna stopped and turned. “What’s wrong?”  
  
“I shouldn’t have worn heels today.”  
  
Shauna grinned triumphantly. “Told you.”  
  
Celestine narrowed her eyes. “Urusai.”  
  
“Yeah... I dunno what that  _means_ , so...”  
  
“It means ‘shut up’.”  
  
“Oh.” Shauna blinked. “Why don’t you just say ‘shut up’ in Common?”  
  
Celestine ground her teeth and said nothing.  
  
“Oh don’t be such a Grumpy Gus,” Shauna said. She drew her mouth into an exaggerated pout, mocking Celestine’s irritation, and the Kantonian frowned at the provocation. “C’mon! You get a new teammate here.”  
  
“That doesn’t help if I can’t walk properly,” Celestine growled.  
  
“Just take off your boots,” Delphi said. He had trotted a little ways ahead, but stopped and glanced over his shoulder back at them. The way his tail stood erect and swaying was almost beckoning.  
  
“See? Problem solved.” And then Shauna was bounding away before Celestine could protest.  
  
It seemed there was no other option. Celestine stripped off her boots, wincing at the sensation of wet earth that was almost mud but not quite on the soles of her feet and between her toes.  
  
_Ugh. I picked a bad day to not wear socks._  
  
Tossing her boots over her shoulder—like hell she was putting them in her bag, Storage Key be damned, they were too muddy to even entertain the idea—she trudged forward.  
  
Unfortunately, she hadn’t thought to wear any socks under her boots, so her bare feet ended up sinking into the soft give of the cool, damp earth. She winced—the ground felt far too flat without her heels, and the way the cold bit into soles of her feet was entirely unpleasant.  
  
Wearing heels could give Celestine the illusion that the only reason she was so tall was because of the stiletto heels on her boots. But now, with those heels removed and the damp earth sucking at her feet, that illusion was gone. Her feet were flat against the ground and the trees were the same size as they were without her shoes. She was just as tall, her legs still awkwardly long and stilt-like, and it was  _wrong_. A girl should not stand at six feet tall without any help. A girl should not be able to feel the cartilage in her joints knitting itself back together. A girl should not have foreign chemicals in her veins that made her see twisted shadows and made her nerves scream with agony.  
  
A human should not  _be_  like this.  
  
“Is that the sign up ahead, do y’think?” Shauna asked, snapping Celestine from her reverie.  
  
“Mm?” Celestine looked up ahead. What had been a dark smudge on the horizon while she’d balanced on the root was now coming into focus as they came closer. A decrepit wooden sign, by the looks of it, and the only real evidence of human presence within the Forest. It was still too far away to make out the words, though. “Oh. Yeah, it is.”  
  
Shauna hummed thoughtfully, and then glanced over at Celestine with a particularly mischievous glint in her mint-colored eyes. “Ten bucks says it tells us to go left.”  
  
“I already told you we’re probably going right.”  
  
“If you’re so confident, then put your money where your mouth is,” Mint said, adding her own two cents in. Shauna turned away and did something that Celestine thought might have been a high five, but it was hard to tell from behind.  
  
Celestine rolled her eyes. “Just because I’m confident doesn’t mean I’m willing to bet.”  
  
“Sounds like you’re not too sure,” Shauna singsonged. Max, not understanding it to be bait, chirped a similar tune.  
  
“Taunt me all you want,” Celestine said. “My will is too strong to succumb to your gambling tendencies.”  
  
“You say that now, Lavieaux, but mark my words—I will corrupt you.”  
  
Celestine rolled her shoulders in her sockets, but said nothing. The word “corrupt” sent a twisted pang through her.  
  
Shauna took the silence in stride though and skipped up ahead—the virtue of reasonable footwear, Celestine thought enviously—and reached the sign first. Celestine was still catching up, so she didn’t hear it, but she did see the way Shauna’s posture slumped and the way she tilted her head back in exasperation, which spoke of a despairing groan. On the Hoennian’s shoulder, Max chirped in confusion, rather bewildered by the   
  
“We’re going right, aren’t we?” Celestine called out as she picked her way down the path. There were roots all over the place and they were too-hard against the almost-mud, almost like bones. Needless to say, it was uncomfortable enough to slow her down.  
  
Shauna grumbled unintelligently.  
  
Celestine caught up, and she couldn’t help feeling a little a little smug as the words came into view. Over an arrow pointing to the left, the words “ _Advanced Trail (1-2 Badges recommended)_ ” were carved into the wood. An arrow pointing to the right had the words “ _Novice Trail (0-1 Badges recommended)_ ” placed above it.  
  
“Hey!” Delphi peered up at the sign, still at her side. He glanced up at her, mildly impressed. “You were right!”  
  
“Of course I was.” Celestine flashed Shauna a smirk that the Hoennian did not see, still staring at the sign in despair. “Geez, Shauna, I thought the whole reason you wanted me to accompany you was because I knew my way around Viridian, and that Santalune is almost identical.”  
  
“What?” Shauna straightened and whirled around, blinking. “No. What made you think that?”  
  
“Well, Mint said—”  
  
“And you listened to her?”  
  
“Hey!” the Chespin said indignantly. “No need ta be rude, now!”  
  
Celestine frowned and studied Shauna’s face. The brunette seemed genuinely perplexed. But if that wasn’t the reason, then... “So why did you want me to come, then?”  
  
“I wanted to talk to ya, silly.”  
  
Dread stirred in Celestine’s gut. “About Calem?”  
  
“Mmm... I was  _actually_  thinking more along the lines of your anime preferences,” Shauna said. And then she started trotting down the right path in almost merry fashion.  
  
Celestine stood for a moment, blinking, dumbfounded—when she realized Shauna was already about a foot ahead and Delphi was abandoning her to follow the Hoennian, she scrambled to catch up. “W-Wait, what?”  
  
“Anime preferences,” Shauna said cheerily. “Like, what kind do you prefer? Shounen? Shoujo? Seinen? Josei? Ooh, yaoi? Yuri?”  
  
Celestine simply blinked still processing the fact that the only reason Shauna wanted to travel with her was to talk about anime. Like they couldn’t do that at a more casual place instead of a Bug-infested Forest, where some particularly powerful Pokémon hid in the deeper bowels, where the trees cast deeper shadows and a sign was posted, boldly labelling “Danger”.  
  
“What’s anime?” Delphi asked, padding steadily at Celestine’s side.  
  
“Kantonese animated shows and movies and stuff,” Shauna answered.  
  
“And the bane a’ human existence,” Mint sniffed.  
  
Shauna gawked at her starter. “How can you  _say_  that?”  
  
“Because the  _minute_  ya got into, it became an obsession, it did,” she said. “And have you  _seen_  some of the stuff on 4chan? Fangirls like you have  _way_  too much time on your hands.”  
  
“Screw you! I don’t even  _own_  a 4chan account.”  
  
“Can I hava go at fanfiction then?” Mint deadpanned. “‘Cause  _that_  is one juicy vein.”  
  
“Hold on,” Celestine said, cutting Shauna’s stuttering attempt at a retort. “You wanted me to come with you so we could discuss the nuances of Kantonese animation?”  
  
Shauna looked absolutely relieved at the change in subject. “Yes. So—I really like Puella Magi Madoka Magica and Princess Tutu, but I didn’t know if you would like that, because, well, I mean they are kinda cutesy looking, but the stories are great. Oh! Sailor Moon is good too! But my  _favorite_  is Day Break Illusion, which is  _seriously_  underrated, and—” She suddenly turned back to Celestine in alarm. When she turned her head, the side of her pigtail nearly knocked Max off his perch. “...it’s not racist to assume you like anime because you’re Kantonese, is it?”  
  
“Is it racist to assume you like the beach because you’re Hoennian?” Celestine countered.  
  
“I  _do_  like the beach,” Shauna said.  
  
“...and I like anime.”  
  
“What was the point of that?” Delphi whispered to Mint.  
  
“Humans,” Mint answered cryptically with an eye roll.  
  
“Great!” Shauna chirped, ignoring the starters’ exchange. “So what’s your thing? Sailor Moon? Yuri On Ice? Evangelio—”  
  
There was a rustling in the bushes that made the girls stop—the whole Forest rustled and moved all around them, and this was particularly loud, too close. Celestine squinted at the undergrowth, glimpsing a flash of pale, pastel blue through the green-brown foliage.  
  
But then the out-of-place color disappeared with a particularly loud rustling. And then it was gone. They stared at the bushes, waiting for something to come that never did. Max even fluttered off Shauna’s shoulder and chirped inquiringly at the shrubs, but still, nothing.  
  
After two minutes of waiting, it began to feel ridiculous.  
  
Celestine turned away and started walking. The sooner she got out of this place, the sooner she could go back to walk on solid, less-muddy ground and clean this gunk off her feet. “Max, c’mon.”  
  
Max cheeped.  
  
“So, you gonna answer the question?” Shauna asked, skipping after her. “Favorite anime?”  
  
“Kill La Kill,” Celestine answered offhandedly.  
  
“Really? Never heard of that one.”  
  
Celestine stopped dead, the air around her turning dark and cold and lethal. She whirled around, her long dark hair flying out like the swing of a katana, and Shauna stopped dead at the flintiness of her blue eyes.  
  
“How the  _literal fuck_ ,” Celestine said slowly, enunciating each word so that the bladed edge in her tone was even more prominent, “have you never heard of Kill La Kill?”  
  
Shauna took a step back, eyes wide. “W-Well...”  
  
“It is literally  _one of the best anime in existence_ ,” Celestine went on, her tone not changing. “It has an amazing plot, a great cast of unique and memorable characters, a lightning-fast pace with only one real episode of filler that doubles as character development, a badass protagonist, defies the girls-can’t-fight trope, portrays an awesome and iconic weapon, has  _amazing_  fight scenes, deep thematic content, and a heart-breaking ending that  _will leave you in tears_. All the marks of a great anime  _and it has it_.”  
  
Shauna paused thoughtfully. “...wait. Isn’t that the one with the angry girl in the black g-string-suspenders combo?”  
  
There was silence. The trees rustled and the birds chirped and everything moved except for the foreigners who had dared to wandered into the depths of an Old Forest.  
  
“...it’s a kamui,” the Kantonian said softly. “It is composed entirely of life-fibres, which are parasitic, alien organisms which give the host incredible power but run the risk of completely overwhelming them. The resulting outfit has very little skin-on-skin contact in order to avoid this.”  
  
“It looks like something a stripper would wear,” Shauna said, seemingly oblivious to Celestine’s lethal glare.  
  
“It’s called  _coincidence_.”  
  
“Nah. I think it’s just fanservice.”  
  
“Why are they arguing about this?” Delphi asked Mint.  
  
Mint wriggled out of Shauna’s arms and landed feet-first on the ground. With a sigh and brushing off invisible dust, she answered in a deadpan, “‘Cause they’re fangirls, kiddo, and fangirls’re the scariest thing in the world.”

* * *

It was another ten minutes before the sound of movement halted the debate. Mint’s vines lashed out, catching a shape in mid-air and bringing it to the ground. When the Trainers came over to inspect it, they found a little bird with grey wings and a head the same sunburst orange as Alistair’s feathers.  
  
“Ooh, a Fletchling,” Shauna said, leaning in.  
  
Celestine, meanwhile, decided to be pragmatic and pulled out her PokéDex. She arched a brow when she read that it evolved into a Fletchinder. Interesting. “So how do you want to do this, Shauna? Rock, paper, scissors? Coin flip? Wh—”  
  
“Dibs,” Shauna said. At some point while Celestine was talking, the Hoennian had pulled out a Poké Ball—which she chucked at the struggling form of the Fletchling. It vanished in a flash of pale light, and the Ball shook before going still. “Whoo-hoo!”  
  
Celestine blinked. “Why.”  
  
Shauna glanced over at her. “What?”  
  
“Well, maybe  _I_  wanted it,” Celestine said. And wouldn’t it be cool if she had a Fletchinder that could someday rival Alistair? See if Calem was so smug about his precious bird then.  
  
“Ya already  _got_  a Flying-Type,” Mint pointed out as she withdrew her spiny vines. “ _And_  one in reserve!”  
  
“And its line gains a Fire Typing,” added Delphi, “which I already have—without evolving.”  
  
Celestine smothered a pang of indignance and kept her gaze trained on Shauna. “You won’t even use it, anyway. You’ll just end up WonderTrading it.”  
  
“And maybe I’ll get a Crobat for it.”  
  
“Highly unlikely,” Celestine retorted. “People don’t just give away ultra-powerful Pokémon,  _especially_  not Crobat—”  
  
“Hey guys?” Delphi piped up. “Any idea where Max went?”  
  
“What are you talking about? He’s right—” Celestine broke off. She did a quick scan of the area, and though the path remained just as dark and damp as before, and the leaves were just as green and the shadows just as deep and the wind tossed the branches in exactly the same way, something was irreplaceably and undeniably wrong.  
  
There was no sign of a little tan-and-brown bird.  
  
“—shit.” Her second day of training, and she’d already lost one of her Pokémon. Not good.  
  
Hakase was going to kill her.  
  
Shauna was looking too. “Well he couldn’t have gone far.”  
  
Celestine cupped both hands to her mouth and tried not to sound desperate as she called out. “Ma-ax! Maaaaax! Where are you!?”  
  
“He prob’ly flew off while you guys were debating anime,” Mint grumbled.  
  
“Maybe he got tired of listening to it too,” Delphi muttered back.  
  
Celestine eyed the undergrowth—thick and luscious and so, so perfectly dense. A little bird like Max could easily get swallowed up by the green leaves and the tangled branches and what appeared to be thin, stubby thorns. “ _Dammit_.”  
  
She ran up and plunged into it without a second thought.  
  
She heard Shauna cry out in alarm, but hardly thought anything of it. The undergrowth blurred into a sea of branches lashing at her legs and stubbing her toes on hidden roots, thorns tearing at her jeans. It came up to her thighs, practically swallowing her too-long legs, making it difficult to run—and it was not a dignified sight, her tripping and scrabbling through the thicket, thick branches seemingly grabbing at her, trying to trap her and keep her in place but she resisted. Like hell she was surrendering to this place.  
  
She fumbled for Max’s Ball as she ran, bringing up his status screen—a GPS locator, to be more precise, one that could locate the occupant of the Ball within a fifty-mile radius. Luckily, Max appeared to be within fifty miles, because a blinking green dot indicated his location.  
  
North, according to the compass in the bottom left corner of the status screen holograph. Celestine had no idea which way was north, but she ran, and her position relative to Max’s was marked by a blue arrow. And the blue arrow was getting closer, so that must be good, right?  
  
_Yes, definitely good_ , Celestine decided, even though juniper bushes bit into the fabric of her jeans and and tore the denim open and left shallow slashes in her pale skin, which closed and vanished almost immediately. Ah, the joys of instant healing. Like that would defend her against the burs getting lodged in her clothes.  
  
Something changed about the Forest as she followed Max’s beacon. It was not subtle, but she paid no mind to it at first, brushing it off as unimportant. But as she went deeper, it only grew more and more prominent and eventually she had to stop and take a look around to truly process what she was seeing.  
  
All around her, the trees stood like columns of an ancient temple—they had gotten straighter, thinned into a single trunk—but the roof was no longer a canopy of a thousand emerald shades. Rather, it was a ceiling made entirely of a dusty brown, pulpy substance, the surface of it of it rough and papery in appearance, with knots and stylized whorls. It arched over the trunks like a dome, anchored by curved beams that gave the whole thing a spiderweb look around the edges, but within the spiderwed-esque border, it was solid and opaque, and a thousand yellow conical shapes were suspended by near-invisible threads.  
  
Each cone had a pair of large, triangular black eyes, too shiny and too bright to be anything other than insectile. Frigid horror flooded through Celestine as she gazed up at those hard, glossy eyes, and the realization of what this place was hit her like a hammer of ice to the head. She had never seen one in person, only reading about in the thick, glossy pages of Regional Geographic or her junior biology textbooks—and one time she’d seen a wasp’s nest that had formed in her school over summer vacation, all the papery, dusty brown whorls and combs and how those nasty little bastards flew out just when she was about to get close and made her shriek—but this was bigger, more real. A full-scale version that made all the pictures and stories she’d heard seem small in comparison. She nearly dropped her boots, still in her hand, and Max’s Ball, and nearly fled in sheer terror. Rumor had it that once you stumbled upon one of these things, there was no coming back.  
  
_Oh Birds._  
  
Rustling sounded from behind her and it took all of Celestine’s self-control not to leap ten feet in the air and bang her head on one of the Kakuna— ** _Kakuna_** —hanging from the nest’s ceiling as she whirled around.  
  
But it was just Shauna, waving desperately and struggling to catch up. The thicket that only came up to Celestine’s thigh practically swallowed the Hoennian from the waist down, and her breathing was absolutely laborious as she approached. Mint was in her arms again and Delphi was on her shoulder.  
  
None of them had the sense to look up as they approached.  
  
“Geez, don’t  _do_  that,” Shauna protested as she caught up, panting. Celestine opened her mouth to say something along the lines of shut up, but Shauna kept going—“I get that you’re worried and all, but that’s no reason to run off without saying something! I mean, it’s really rude—”  
  
Delphi cut her off with a fearful bark. While Shauna had been talking, his eyes had been drawn to the base of one of the beams, and his gaze had traveled up, up, up, until at last he was staring directly at the Kakuna and their papery ceiling.  
  
“Whatcha lookin’ at—oh.” Mint followed Delphi’s gaze and her eyes went round at the sight.  
  
Shauna looked up too, but her eyes were wide with wonder and not fear. “Whoa! What is this place!?”  
  
“A Beedrill nest,” Celestine hissed.  
  
At this, Shauna’s body immediately went tense. Mint seemed to shrink, and Delphi whimpered.  
  
“What do we do?” Shauna asked. Her voice had dropped to an uncharacteristically low volume, and there was an odd tremor to it that did not fit her at all.  
  
Celestine wracked her brain for the survival rules she’d learned in Viridian’s Trainer School. It all mostly boiled down to the same thing, though—don’t freak out the deadly bugs that could impale you on a whim—but, hey, it was better than nothing.  
  
“Be  _very_  quiet,” she answered with a soft intensity, “and make no sudden movements. Let’s move.”  
  
From then on, they were much more careful, picking their way through the sea of undergrowth—juniper bushes, ferns, brambles, bracken—with the utmost precision. It was eerily silent, the usual lifeful noises of the Forest not reaching here, in this place where countless had likely met their demise. Beedrill were notoriously territorial, and hardly fond of letting trespassers go.  
  
Celestine’s heart thumped against her ribcage at full intensity. At this rate her breastbone was going to end up bruised, but with her being what she was, that mattered little. She eyed the Kakuna, all glaring at her from high above her head. They looked extremely pissed.  
  
“Why are they just  _staring_  at us?” Mint whispered, sounding as unnerved as Celestine felt.  
  
“...they’re pissed because they can’t do anything,” Celestine realized aloud. “They’re just stuck, suspended over us, but they can’t reach us.”  
  
“Can’t they evolve at any minute?” Delphi asked warily.  
  
“No. Look—they’re smaller than normal.” Back in the Trainer’s School, one of Celestine's classmates had been an aspiring Bug Catcher, who had been eager to inform the class about the biology of Kakuna and various other Bugs. Many of the other girls had been disgusted, preferring to train Meowth and Mankey, but Celestine had been the odd one with a Charmander and a thirst for knowledge that transcended her dislike of creepy crawlies. “It’s still way too early for them to evolve. In fact, they probably just evolved from their Weedle stage recently.”  
  
“So they can’t just evolve and come after us?” Shauna asked.  
  
“No.” With the thought of immediate danger gone, she momentarily tore her wary gaze off the Kakuna to eye the radar on Max’s Ball. They were still going in the right direction, at least. So why did something still feel off, not quite adding up?  
  
“Oh. Good.”  
  
Celestine looked back at the glaring Bugs. And then, as she looked around at the vast, papery expanse, she realized what it was that wasn’t making sense. “...there aren’t any Beedrill here.”  
  
“Yeah,” said Delphi. “Thank the Goddess.”  
  
“No... Beedrill are usually very protective of Kakuna after the evolve,” Celestine explained, apprehension swelling in her chest. “They rarely leave their side... so why aren’t there any here?”  
  
Max’s Ball beeped. Celestine tore her gaze off the premature Kakuna and looked back at the radar. The dot indicating Max had gone from green to yellow. Green meant relatively healthy, if not full health. Red was critical condition, and yellow was danger.  
  
The Forest blurred with a sense of urgency. What if Max had come through here, excited the Beedrill and fled, and maybe that was why the Bugs had chosen to abandon their nest? It made sense—Beedrill were notoriously unforgiving and relentless.  
  
“Oh, God,” she said, and started running again.  
  
It was not a dignified sight, her stumbling and tripping and barely keeping her balance, but still she ran, relentless. The nest vanished into the distance, replaced by bright spots of sunlight that dabbled the bushes. Gradually, more and more sunlight filtered in through the trees, and soon enough Celestine had to squint, the brightness harsh against her eyes—which had adjusted to the Forest’s darkness.  
  
The sound of distant buzzing filled her ears.  
  
She ran harder.  
  
The undergrowth suddenly stopped, vanished abruptly. Below her, the ground fell away into a shallow cliff with a too-steep drop. She stumbled and slipped, skidding down the incline, earth coming loose under her bare feet—roots banged against her toes and heels and stray plants lashed at her shins. Gritting her teeth, she landed sloppily, her ankle twisting awkwardly— _Sonova **bitch**_ —but she ignored it and kept running.  
  
Sunlight fell in splashes across the ground, bigger and bigger as the buzzing got louder, highlighting the sparse patches of grass and moss that dotted the ground like someone had sewed them into the ground, like a woodland quilt. The trees thinned into a grotto, and Celestine stumbled to a halt. Her body immediately paid her back for the abuse, lashes of pain ricocheting around inside her like a thousand Ping-Pong balls, but she hardly noticed.  
  
Beedrill clogged the sky like a plague, a hundred writhing yellow bodies all jostling each other as they vied for space to fly. Their buzzing was incessant and whining, so loud and obnoxious that it made Celestine’s eardrums throb. Long, deadly stingers bobbed overhead on the very end of their black-striped abdomens, wings pale blurs of movement. Celestine couldn’t even count how many long black limbs there were above her head, thousands upon thousands—and a third of them segued abruptly into deadly needles, gleaming white stingers that could puncture steel with little to no effort and go through flesh like warm butter.  
  
One of the stingers overhead dripped venom. The droplets landed with a hiss, inches away from where Celestine stood.  
  
She did not move, did not flinch, only  _stared_.  
  
Beedrill swarms were the stuff of nightmares in Viridian. Cautionary tales were told of ill-prepared Trainers who wandered into the Viridian Forest and never return. One of the more gruesome ones Celestine had heard was a folktale about an arrogant young lord who endeavored to eradicate the swarm, despite the fact that it had never attacked humans without provocation. The end result varied from version to version, but the one Celestine was most familiar with was that the lord’s corpse was found with a million puncture wounds, a true testament to the ferocity of a Beedrill’s Twineedle and Fury Attack moves.  
  
An angry swarm was death to any mortal who encountered them, period. And though there was a voice in Celestine’s head that reminded her she was an  _exception_ , it didn’t stop her heart from pounding louder and faster than she ever thought possible, a thunderous drone in her ears that almost drowned out the Beedrill’s wings. Her body locked up, blood running icy cold. The acidic taste of fear flooded her mouth. Her head spun, dizzyingly close to debilitating terror, and she wanted to run, run,  _run, get the hell out there_ , she needed to get out of here before these things  _killed her_ —  
  
An alarmed, warbling chirping shattered her thoughts. Celestine’s eyes snapped to the ground—her neck ached from having to look up for so long, and the sudden movement sent a flare of pain down her spine—and they widened at the sight she was met with.  
  
There were quite a few Pokémon species that Celestine was unfamiliar with, and this was one of them. It was ape-like, but very slender to the point that it was almost skinny. From the waist up, it was a shade of soft, pastel blue save for its tan face, and a cloud-like puff crowned its head. Its feet, arms, and lower body matched its facial color, and its eyes squeezed shut—yet that did nothing to hide the ferocity and raw defiance wrought on its face. Its arm was raised protectively, a gash carved into the limb and weeping some translucent, viscous fluid that in no way looked healthy.  
  
But what Celestine was more focused on what the little brown shape huddled behind the odd primate. Max—curled in on himself, eyes round afraid, feathers ruffled to the point of bristling, his little body trembling in terror.  
  
Time came to a standstill. Celestine was moving, but she was the only one—everything else was frozen, suspended, unmoving.  
  
Her feet moved, stepped forward. One, two, faster, faster. She was running. One hand had a tight grip around Max’s Ball, and the other was hyper-aware of the leather material of her boots.  
  
She was in front of them, suddenly. A hundred pairs of ruby eyes, hard and polished like jewels, were trained on her. Gazes burning under her skin, fire and acid.  
  
Her arm moved without her consent. She was watching, but not doing. It didn’t click, didn’t register, not really. The arc of her boots—swinging—it was surreal.  
  
The crack of heels meeting hard exoskeleton brought her back to reality.  
  
The Beedrill she hit went careening to the right, colliding messily into another one, and they collided into another—and on and on, it kept going until almost thirty of them had crashed to the ground in a writhing pile, wild and disoriented and extremely pissed.  
  
All eyes locked onto her. The rest of the swarm bristled with barely contained fury, their eyes gleaming with crimson light.  
  
A chill passed through Celestine and her boots slipped out of her hands. When they landed, she could see a mucus-like fluid on the steel-plated toes.  
  
She took a quick glance at the Beedrill pile—the one on the very bottom was struggling much more weakly than the others to untangle itself. There was a small dent on the side of its head that wept a sticky, milky green liquid.  
  
_Ohhhh—_  
  
The swarm raised their stinging arms and poised to strike.  
  
_—shit!_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aaaaaaaand that's it. Betcha weren't expecting a cliffhanger, were ya?
> 
> Inspiration for the forest scene comes from the walk my PE class took in the woods outside my school the day I started writing this. It was really inspiring and helped me create such vivid imagery.
> 
> Translations (Hoennian = Greek, btw):  
> Ma loulouette—an affection French term, feminine, with the root being "loupin", meaning "wolf". It refers to a feisty woman.  
> Lypámai—Greek for "I am sorry".  
> Parakaló—Greek for "please".  
> Se misó—Greek for "I hate you!"  
> Matte—Japanese for "wait".  
> Matteo—Japanese for "hold on".  
> Ikuso—Japanese for "let's go".
> 
> I really don't have much else to say so, that's all for now,  
> Luna out


	9. Chapter 4: Eternel (Part 2)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warning for mild blood and gore. Also for strong language, overly descriptive scenery, and cryptic French phrases.

**Chapter 4—Éternel**  
(adjective)

  * French for “eternal”, “everlasting”, “timeless”, and “endless”



 

“Celestine!” An electric jolt of sheer horror went through Celestine as Shauna emerged from the treeline, looking even more disgruntled than last time—leaves in her hair and scratches along her skin and her clothes sporting the occasional bur. Delphi was racing after her, limping a little and favoring his left front leg, his coat tangled with a hundred burs of his own. “Do you know how rude it is to run off like that!? What the he—eeeeell,  _oh my god_!”  
  
The Beedrill whirled around to face what they perceived as a new threat—not like Shauna was threatening, but still. The Hoennian yelped and stumbled, and Mint screeched in alarm from her arms. Delphi skidded to a halt, eyes huge and bur-ridden felt fluffing out in terror.  
  
Like any good Trainer, Celestine turned the distraction into an advantage. “Delphi, Ember! Imasugu!”  
  
Yesterday, she’d thought him a poor battler, and his performance had reflected it—poor reaction time, a hesitance that had screamed  _novice_  at the top of its lungs. But now, she knew different. Though he was young and inexperienced, he was a bona fide starter, trained in basic combat from the time he was small in order to properly defend the Trainer assigned to him. Starters were the first line of defense for young beginners, and the last line for veterans.  
  
Delphi probably didn’t know what she’d said. He didn’t speak Kantonese. But he heard the emotion in her voice, and with the context of a hundred or so furious Bugs, understood the message immediately. He reeled back and let loose puffs of orange-yellow flame. They weren’t strong—he was probably too frantic to focus, another sign of immaturity—but they did the trick and made the Beedrill scatter, made them less inclined to attack as recklessly as before.  
  
“Shauna!” Celestine hissed—her voice was tight and urgent and intense, a desperate attempt to snap the shorter girl from her stupor. It didn’t work. Shauna still stared, face blank with horror, at the deadly Bugs. “Shauna,  _get over here_!”  
  
Shauna stayed rooted to the spot.  
  
“ _Now_. Run. Dammit, Shauna,  _ima yare_!”  
  
Shauna whimpered, but Delphi understood. He headbutted the back of Shauna’s left shin, and suddenly the girl was moving, running, racing.  
  
The Beedrill saw this as weakness and tried to dive-bomb them—Shauna screamed and ducked, and Delphi spat flames in their direction that made them halt, faltering, desperate to retreat from the damning sparks.  
  
Weight hit Celestine’s shoulder, if only for a moment. She hardly had time to turn her head and catch a glimpse of the blue primate, which she had admittedly forgotten about in all the confusion, before it vaulted off her shoulder and into the air. It soared, almost, paws outstretched, before it slammed into an airborne Beedrill.  
  
The Bug faltered, the impact throwing off its balance, and the primate used the disorientation to scamper up to the Beedrill’s wings. With stubby claws, the primate made a single, clean slash, tearing the delicate membrane to useless shreds. The Beedrill let out whines of distress, struggling to stay airborne with only one wing, but the primate had already moved on—darting from the back of one Beedrill to the next, crippling them with a terrifying precision.  
  
Beedrill fell from the sky like hail, striking the ground with dying, sickening thuds. Shauna was hunkered down somewhere beneath them, shrieking every time Delphi blasted weak flames at falling Bug that came too close. Luckily, all they really did was singe the exoskeleton and not set the Beedrill ablaze, but Shauna didn’t seem inclined to move either way.  
  
_Oh, for fuck’s **sake**._  
  
Celestine lowered her head and ran headlong into the storm of falling Beedrill—forget what she said earlier, it wasn’t like hail, it was like artillery shells falling over a warzone, boom, boom, boom. She grabbed Shauna by the wrist and yanked her to her feet, and then they were running.  
  
It was a warzone and then some, utter chaos. The primate was knocked off its latest Beedrill mount and fell—Celestine managed to catch it as she ran, not missing a beat, and it felt like something she should immensely proud of.  
  
Soon enough, they were safely on the other side, the Beedrill all scattering and crashing into each other in a frenzied panic. Shauna trembled in Celestine’s arms, and she was clinging onto Mint for dear life—or maybe Mint was clinging to her, or maybe they were just mutually clinging to each other, shaken, terrified—and Celestine hugged the shorter girl close to her, protectively.  
  
“It’s okay,” Celestine murmured gently. Shauna shivered like a leaf in the wind, sobbing, fragile. “You’re okay. I’ve got you. You’re  _safe_  Ceri—”  
  
She stopped. Looked down.  
  
Shauna was olive-skinned and brown-haired, too short, too petite, to match the image in her head. The Hoennian’s eyes were even the wrong shade of green, minty instead of jade. And she did not peer up at Celestine with eyes wide with pleading and unconditional adoration, she just squeezed her eyes shut and sobbed.  
  
“Shauna,” Celestine amended. Not Cerise. Never Cerise. Never again. “You’re  _safe_.”  
  
“Um,” came a squeak at her feet. Delphi, still bristled and radiating waves of stifling heat. “I’m not so sure about that—not yet, anyway.”  
  
She looked back at the swarm. Yeah, the attack had taken a nice chunk out of their numbers, but damn, there were still at least fifty more in the air, fit and ready to fight and pissed as hell.  
  
Urgency bloomed in Celestine’s chest. She inhaled sharply, audibly, and took a step back. Oh dear Birds they had to get out of here,  _now_.  
  
“Max,” she said. The bird hadn’t moved, too terrified, and she knew he could hear her. “Max, come over here.  _Please_.”  
  
The Pidgey chirped fearfully. She didn’t have to look over her shoulder to know he was rooted in place. But she looked anyway and the primal fear in his little eyes broke her heart a little, but there was no time.  
  
“Max. Please. I know you’re scared, but I need you to use Sand-Attack, asap.” The Beedrill started to advance. Delphi pinned his ears back and growled, but it came out feeble. Shauna sobbed. Celestine swallowed thickly.  _Not good._  “Max, ima! Sand-Attack!”  
  
The Beedrill charged. Celestine flinched, eyes snapping shut and her body tensed in anticipation.  
  
The sound of wings flapping met Celestine’s ears. There was a cool rush of wind—displaced air, not a Gust but still powerful—and as Celestine opened her eyes, she was met with a thick cloud of pale sand. Sand... the dirt’s chemical composition had been changed. Only Ground-Type moves could do that. Moves like...Sand-Attack.  
  
_...Max?_  She glanced over her shoulder, but the Pidgey was still there, though his expression had changed from terror to amazement. So, not him. Which was just as well. The flapping had come from above. But then how—   
  
Talons landed on her scalp. “Geez, I leave you alone for  _five minutes_.”  
  
Celestine’s eyes widened and she had to restrain herself from looking up, lest she knock off the bird using her as a perch. “What—? You—? The hell?”  
  
Tanner’s head greeted her from above, eyes narrowed into a glare. “A fine way to greet your savior. Don’t they have manners in your country?”  
  
Celestine blinked, too stunned to react to the subtle ribbing. “I thought you said you wouldn’t set foot in the Forest. Bugs and stuff.”  
  
“Like the ones that almost killed you?” Tanner returned flatly. “Yep. Glad I showed up.” He vanished overhead. “Kiddo! Over here!”  
  
Flapping, clumsy and desperate. Soft, fluffy warmth landing on her shoulder and then snuggling up against the side of Celestine’s neck. She could feel Max—she assumed it was Max—trembling, his little heart beating so fast it was practically a hum.  
  
“You’re okay,” she whispered, turning her head and using her chin to caress his shaking back. “You’re okay now.”  
  
“For as long as that Sand-Attack holds,” Tanner countered. “Now let’s hightail outta here before—”  
  
“Um,” Delphi said. He was radiating more heat than a space heater turned up to the highest setting, and when he brushed against her shin, it was almost  _scorching_. “Too late.”  
  
Celestine turned back to the cloud of sand, but it was starting to thin, and she could make out the vague silhouettes of furious Beedrill through the screen, highlighted by their glowing crimson eyes. Shit. Tanner’s sudden arrival had distracted her. They’d run out of time.  
  
She took a step back. It probably wouldn’t work a second time, but... “Any chance you can make another Sand-Attack like that?”  
  
“Are you kidding?” Tanner squawked. “I used five Aura Points to make that!”  
  
Wait. Condensing? Oh, hell, never mind. Another time. “So that’s a yes?”  
  
“Duh!”  
  
“Then  _do it_!”  
  
As she spoke, a blur of color shot into the cloud. A second later, a rush of displaced air slammed into Celestine like an aftershock, and she flinched against it, raising an arm over her face.  
  
When the wind died and she lowered her arm, the cloud was thicker than it had been before, to the point where the Beedrill silhouettes had vanished again. What she  _could_  see, however, were random scintillations of colored light—pink, green, blue, yellow—blazing from within the cloud like strobe lights, and then there were sudden rushes of bladed air that cut into the thick bark of nearby trees. A few Beedrill corpses were thrown out of the cloud, as if launched, some crushed and others sliced in two, and she heard wingbeats, strong and powerful, sounding like they could easily dent steel with one blow.  
  
A single Beedrill corpse was hurled up into the sky, arcing high over Celestine’s head before it landed behind her at the base of some roots with a sickening thump. It was crushed and twisted and broken, like a discarded soda can.  
  
Celestine whirled back to the cloud. There was another gust and the cloud vanished—in it’s place was some strange creature, mostly black, but against that were beautiful, exquisite markings that looked so delicate they must have been painted on. Bright, bright colors, stark white outlines surrounding sea green and pastel blues, wings fanning out in shades of sunset yellow and terracotta red and lapis lazuli blue.  
  
The swarm in front of the strange, ornately colored creature had been halved. Maybe twenty-five Beedrill were still airbourne, and the rest were on the ground, incapacitate in some way or just flat out dead.  
  
And the strange, winged creature was unscathed.  
  
Celestine gawked.  
  
The remaining Beedrill buzzed urgently, and it wasn’t just random white noise, Celestine realized after a while. There was a sort of depth in the intonation, fluctuations in the pitch and tone. They were  _communicating_  with each other.  
  
_Wild tongue._  
  
All Celestine heard was gibberish, but the Beedrill seemed to reach some sort of decision and hightailed it out of there. And that in itself was astonishing—Beedrill did not get scared. They did not retreat. They fought to the death to protect their territory. They were wild and vicious and relentless, and they were not pragmatic.  
  
Then she remembered that there were a bunch of newly-evolved Kakuna back at their nest and realized that maybe their protective instincts overpowered their sense of honor.  
  
She could sympathize with that, honestly.  
  
The Bugs vanished into the treeline, black and yellow swallowed up by green and brown. Celestine held her breath, half-expecting them to change their minds and whirl around, stringers poised to impale and maim and kill, honor before reason. But the sound buzzing ebbed and faded off into the distance, and soon the only thing that remained of them were the corpses abandoned on the forest floor.  
  
Celestine’s legs trembled. Wobbled. Buckled. She fell to her knees, heart hammering so hard that she was sure it was trying to break out. She still had Shauna clutched against her chest, and the shorter girl was trembling, sobbing, but Celestine was having trouble reminding herself that she should probably do something about that—say something, hug her, rub circles on her back,  _something_. Her body had seized up, refusing to move, muscles and joints locked and leaving her completely helpless but to listen to the loud, rapid pace of her heartbeat in her ears and stare wide-eyed at the carnage.  
  
Beedrill corpses were strewn out like confetti. Most were crumpled or crushed, destroyed in some horrific way by an unseen force, but some had their abdomens seemingly torn open, like they had been exploded from the inside out. Milky-green goo leaking out of their damaged exoskeletons, viscous and gluey. Others were just sliced to pieces, cleanly and efficiently, dripping that same Bug goo, which, might she add, had a rather unpleasant smell to it. Celestine wrinkled her nose at the less than desirable odor, which was starting to waft and fill up the entire space, like she need another reason to hate corpses.  
  
As the seconds ticked by, Celestine realized with a jolt that a few were still moving. Their wings had been slashed by the primate clinging to Celestine’s right arm, and they tried to fly but just couldn’t. Either their wings would heal or they would struggle right up until they died of starvation. Either way, it would not be pretty. A Beedrill’s legs were too thin and spindly to support their weight. Beedrill did not walk, only flew, and not having wings was a death sentence.  
  
Well, it wasn’t like anyone ever said death was pretty.  
  
The strange creature—their savior, Celestine realized—turned, and its front was even stranger than its back. It had a long, slender neck and Celestine expected to see a face, but instead she saw a single, big blue eye that seemed capable of staring through absolutely anything. Just below that eye, and almost invisible, was a small black beak.  
  
Wait, was this thing a bird? Celestine looked again. She realized that, in addition to a pair of brightly colored wings, it had a long, feathered tail and a pair of smaller black wings, and a pair of white spikes on either side of its body. As it hovered closer to the ground, the spikes glowed and a pair of avian feet materialized—well, to say they “materialized” was a strong word, because they did not look solid, more transparent and glowing, like crystalized Aura—allowing it to land. It folded its wings at its side and cocked its head in a very bird-like fashion.  
  
She was liking her chances on “bird”.  
  
“What the hell is that thing?” Tanner asked, apparently as unfamiliar with the creature as Celestine was.  
  
Celestine swallowed. Her body was beginning to loosen, but it was still stiff and on high-alert, the taste of fear in her mouth. As if a Beedrill swarm wasn’t enough, now she was at the mercy of some strange being that had inexplicably saved them, but was also more than likely to turn on them. “It’s not Kalosian?”  
  
“I’ve never seen one before,” Delphi said quietly. He was still tense, as if expecting a battle. Celestine hoped not, because this thing had just taken on half a Beedrill swarm and was fairly unscathed. Delphi stood no chance, even with the help of Mint (currently a blubbering mess), Tanner, Max (also trembling and useless), and the monkey (which was injured, and, she realized, running a fever). They would be blown to bits in moments. “Why don’t you use the Dex?”  
  
Celestine blinked. The Dex. The PokéDex. The one that Hakase had given her specifically to help her should she encounter an unfamiliar Pokémon. Like this one. Right. Duh.  
  
She slid her arm around Shauna—who was breathing a little steadier, seeming to compose herself, and Celestine thought,  _Good, we need to keep our heads_ —to reach into her bag. The Dex’s metal shell was cool against her sweaty fingertips. She pulled it out, pointing it at their winged savior.  
  
The Dex scanned it with a marvelous speed. In half a second, the Dex’s top slid up to reveal a thin glass screen, and a Dex entry that Celestine drank in greedily.  
  
“Sigilyph,” she said aloud. Avianoid Pokémon? She’d never heard of it, but that confirmed her suspicions about it being a bird. Or some bird subcategory. The Dex said it was Psychic-Flying, which accounted for the way it had dealt with the Beedrill, the way the corpses had been crushed and twisted and mutilated so effortlessly. Psychics were capable of killing in some truly gruesome ways, after all. According to the Dex, this thing topped out at level sixty, which also explained why it was relatively unscathed. As she read on, she found herself squinting in confusion. “It says this thing is... Unovan?”  
  
And not just Unovan. Rare. Limited to the site of ancient ruins, acting as sentinels of the past, guardians of holy sites and sacred places. So what was one doing here, in Kalos, too far north for an Unovan ruins to exist?  
  
“I’ve h-heard of ‘em,” Shauna mumbled, much to Celestine’s surprise. The brunette sat up a little straighter—still sniffing, still shaking, but her tears were drying and there was something a little braver in her eyes. “My dad’s an archaeologist. W-When I was l-little, he went to the ruins of this ancient Unovan capital, once, and a bunch of ‘em attack his crew. One of my dad’s friends, who was w-with him... he caught one, and it was so  _pissed_. I remember dad went with him to visit Prof. Birch, and this one Unovan professor, Cedric Juniper I think, they both started doing a bunch of research on ‘em.  
  
“A-Apparently there’s this l-legend about how they were d-dolls made by the ancients, a-and then a Kalosian w-wanderer came to Unova and used alchemy to bring them to l-life,” Shauna went on. “T-They’re not made of clay, though, like the legend s-says, so it was pretty much disproved but... Ah...ahahaha, why is  _that_  what I’m thinking about right now? W-We almost died, and I’m thinking about  _that_. Oh,  _wow_. Oh my  _god_.” Shauna started shaking again. “O-Oh m-m-my god, oh Great Serpent, oh Leviathan, oh Behemoth, w-we almost  _died_.”  
  
Celestine wrapped an arm around her shoulders and pulled her close, let the other girl bury her face into Celestine’s collarbone. “But you’re alright now. And that’s what matters.”  
  
Shauna sobbed.  
  
Celestine took a deep breath, and looked up at the thing—the Sigilyph—with steely eyes. “You. Why did you save us?”  
  
The Sigilyph blinked its single eye and said nothing.  
  
“What’re you even doing here,” she kept going, soft, intense, “if you’re Unovan? How did you get here?”  
  
It said nothing.  
  
A wave of cool fury went through her. A Beedrill swarm had just attacked her, threatened the lives of those close to her, and then she’d gotten saved by some magical bird? No.  _Fuck_  that. The world was  _not_  that convenient. This thing was going to  _answer_  her, goddammit, because she was  _tired_  of never getting any answers. For the last five years of her life, she had held her tongue, kept her head down, and tried to survive—but that was over now. She had a voice, she had a  _right_  to know what the fuck was going on.  
  
“And you gonna fucking  _answer_  me or not?” she demanded.  
  
The Sigilyph cocked its head and blinked.  _Your Panpour companion is Poisoned._  
  
Celestine jumped, eyes growing wide. She’d heard of telepathic connections, she’d heard that Psychics could communicate without words, with just feelings and sensations and body language that they could translate into something that was almost like a conversation—but no one mentioned this invasiveness, voiceless thoughts sliding their way into her head, effortlessly and easily. No one had described the way it shot through you, if that was how you described such a thing, how a voice could bypass the process of being heard and auditory data being converted by the brain into some meaning. How it went straight to your head, seamless and easy and... offensive. Like the barrier that kept her thoughts protected was suddenly gone, like suddenly she was stripped naked and everyone could see everything, see her and not see her at the same time, see through her and right to everything she was thinking—  
  
Her head rang with the realization, with the white noise of her racing pulse. She swallowed thickly.  
  
_You should treat him,_  the Sigilyph said, a little more insistent this time. Celestine felt the urge to rifle through her bag and start mixing an Antidote, and she had to tighten her grip around her Dex to resist it.  
  
“Stop it with the subliminal messages,” she hissed.  
  
Shauna looked at her in alarm. “Is it talking to you?”  
  
One of the “advantages” about telepathic communication is that it could be quite exclusive and private if needed. It seemed the Unovan bird-thing was only talking to Celestine. “It says the monkey is Poisoned.”  
  
Shauna immediately set Mint down and started digging through her own bag, pulling out a bottle, some water, and a packet of Antidote tablets. Methodically, and with an unnatural calm, she tore the packet open, dropped a tablet in the bottle and filled it with some water. She pulled out a stirring stick and started mixing. Aside from the subtle trembling in her hands, Celestine couldn’t help but think Shauna would make a good nurse, the way she was being so calm.  
  
“Bring it here,” the brunette said, voice flat.  
  
Celestine set the monkey—Panpour?—down in front of Shauna. She didn’t take her eyes off the Sigilyph.  
  
“Why did you save us?” Celestine asked again, the earlier fire in her voice turned icily cold.  
  
_You were in trouble_ , answered the avianoid plainly.  
  
“Where did you come from?” Delphi interjected. Unlike his trainer, there was more awe in his voice than wariness. His stance had loosened, his fur lying flat, the heat from his ears starting to die down.  
  
Celestine tore her eyes off the bird to stare at her starter. “Wait, can you hear him?”  
  
Delphi gave her a  _duh_  look. “Of course.”  
  
She blinked. “How?”  
  
“My line gains a Psychic Typing after evolution,” Delphi answered simply. “I don’t have it yet, but I still have a slight affinity, like picking up on telepathic conversations. I mean—I can’t tell exactly what he’s saying, but I get the gist of it, y’know?”  
  
Celestine had not known that. She  _really_  needed to talk to Hakase.  
  
_If I may answer your question_ , the Sigilyph intervened, making Celestine flinch.  _My master sent me._  
  
She frowned. “What master?”  
  
_Le Roi Tragique, he is called. He wishes to meet you, Gardien._  
  
An electric jolt of alarm went down Celestine’s spine. Gardien. On its own, the word had little meaning to her, but this was Kalos, and the Kalosians placed a certain attachment, a certain nuance, to their word for “guardian”.  
  
Her thoughts whirled.  _How do you know what I am?_  she demanded from the Sigilyph, though she wasn’t sure if it was working. She hadn’t exactly been involved in a telepathic conversation before.  _How does your master know what I am?_  
  
The Sigilyph unfolded his wings and flapped once, lifting into the air. His temporary feet dissolved back into decorative spikes, giving no indication that he heard Celestine’s tumultuous, whirling thoughts.  _If you would please follow me._  
  
Celestine glanced at Shauna, who was twisting a sprayer cap onto the bottle of newly-mixed Antidote. She glanced at Delphi, who returned her gaze with one of absolute awe, and the slightest hint of reverence in his enormous amber eyes.  
  
She felt the urge to groan. Today was supposed to be a  _good_  day.  
  
“Hey, Shauna?”  
  
“Mm. Yeah?”  
  
“Apparently this thing has a Trainer,” Celestine said. She kept eying on the avianoid, the way it hovered without the need to flap, how its wings barely moved at all, as if suspended in space. Freaky, creepy thing. She’d take Bugs over Psychics any day. “And he wants us to the them.”  
  
Shauna looked alarmed. Mint gawked. “ _Now_?” the Chespin asked, distressed.  
  
Celestine eyed the Sigilyph. That single blue eye stared back, unblinking. She shivered. “...I think so.”  
  
“I’m  _not_  following that thing,” Tanner objected loudly.  
  
Shauna had finished applying Antidote to the Panpour’s infected wound. She unscrewed the sprayer head and replaced it with a regular bottle cap, keeping her eyes low and not looking at the Kantonian.  
  
“Agreed,” Mint said, speaking for both her Trainer and herself.  
  
Max warbled fearfully against Celestine’s neck. She put her Dex away and reached up to stroke his little head with her finger.  
  
_That is just as well_ , the Sigilyph said.  _He only wishes to meet **you** , Gardien._  
  
_Stop calling me that!_  Celestine wanted to scream, but bit it down. She wasn’t a “gardien”—except she was, except she wasn’t, except she was and didn’t want to be.  
  
She flicked her eyes over to Shauna. “He  _really_  wants his Trainer to meet me.”  
  
Shauna licked her lips.  
  
“...I could go and come back,” Celestine suggested. It wasn’t like she wanted to stay here, anyway, surrounded by Beedrill corpses.  
  
A fierce grip seized her left bicep. Celestine almost jumped out of her skin, turning to Shauna in alarm. The Hoennian’s eyes were wide and wet, fierce and terrified. “Don’t you  _dare_ ,” she rasped, “think of leaving me alone after this.”  
  
Celestine tried to shrug Shauna’s grip off and largely failed. What the hell was with this Hoennian strength? “So what then? What do you want me to do?”  
  
“I’m coming with you,” Shauna said and left no room for argument.  
  
It occurred to her just how terrifying an experience this might have been for Shauna. Celestine was sued to violence, used to the cloyingly sweet smell of death and decay and the gruesome sight of fresh corpses. Violence was just part of being a Trainer, and it could get pretty fucking grisly, especially when you wandered off the path. But Shauna—Shauna was still new and naïve and had expected this Journey to be fairly vanilla, safe and seamless. She had not seen the things Celestine had, hadn’t become numb to it and accepted it as a part of life. This had shocked her, scared her, and leaving her here in this ring of wasp corpses would be unforgivable.  
  
_But..._  She glanced back at the Sigilyph, the word “gardien” still ringing in the back of her head. Shauna didn’t know, not like Hakase and this bird-thing did. Celestine was aware of how much of spectacle it would be for Shauna to find out this way, from the mouth of some stranger. And besides, the thought of dragging Shauna into even more shit after this Beedrill attack made an uncomfortable pang go through her.  
  
But it wasn’t like she could just  _leave_  Shauna here, either.  
  
The Sigilyph looked as if he didn’t care either way, giving her a look that said  _it’s up to you, kid_.  
  
Celestine shifted awkwardly, suddenly aware of the thousands of burs that had gotten caught on her pant legs. She sighed. “Okay then.”  
  
Her gaze slid to the Panpour, who was rubbing its newly-treated wound absently. It needed to be acknowledged, didn’t it? After all, this one, scrawny little thing had made a sizeable dent in the swarm’s numbers.  
  
“Hey,” she said.  
  
The Panpour looked up. Its eyes remained eerily shut.  
  
“Thanks for saving Max,” she tried.  
  
It nodded, but said nothing. Celestine frowned.  
  
On her shoulder, Max let loose a few chirping trills. Tanner answered back, and the two went back and forth for a minute.  
  
“Something you’d like to share with the class?” Celestine drawled. She hated language barriers, thank you.  
  
“Kid says the monkey don’t talk,” Tanner said. “At all. Just kinda stares at you and nods and makes weird hand gestures.”  
  
“He might be mute,” she murmured. She remembered a story about the current Indigo League Champion and how he’d effortlessly swept through Johto’s Gym Circuit, how he’d used a Pokémon with the same type of disability on his team and had been called revolutionary because of it. Few Trainers considered using Pokémon that were blind or deaf or mute, but some found inventive ways to turn disability into advantage. “Hey, uh... Panpour, right? C’mere. Lemme see your arm.”  
  
Reluctantly, tentatively, the Panpour came over and displayed his arm. Celestine didn’t need a close up to know that, even with the Poison removed, the wound still needed Center-level treatment.  
  
“Yeah, that looks bad. Tell you what. As thanks for helping us out back there, how about I take you to a Center to get that looked at?” Celestine offered. She held her hand out, an offering. “I can release you again, right afterwards, but I’d like to help you get some treatment. Is that okay?”  
  
The Panpour looked at her hand for a moment. Then he grabbed her fingers and shook it. The ghost of a smile curled Celestine’s mouth.  
  
“Well alright then.” She pulled a Ball out from her bag, enlarged it, and tapped it on the cloud-shaped tuft on the Panpour’s head. He went in without much resistance, very little shaking. She marveled at how calm he was as the shaking stopped and beep alerted her of the capture. She keyed in a quick name—“Ray”, because it was temporary and she couldn’t think of anything else—as she stood and turned to the Sigilyph. It had been watching the entire exchange with a blank, or maybe just unreadable, expression. “Lead the way.”

* * *

It occurred to Celestine, at some point while they followed the mysterious Unovan avianoid that had swooped out of nowhere and now insisted she meet his equally mysterious “master”, that this might be a really terrible idea. And it might be an  _especially_  really terrible idea because her team currently consisted of a meek starter, a baby bird, and an injured monkey, and this thing was  _leagues_  above them in terms of power. And it wasn’t like Shauna could help much with Mint, even if she weren’t still shaken from the Beedrill encounter.  
  
But it wasn’t like they had much choice. For all Celestine knew, this Sigilyph thing might have the ability to teleport them against their will or something. You could never quite tell with Psychics. But really, compliance was the best option when you had an incredibly powerful Pokémon insist on doing something,  _especially_  if it was Psychic. Cautionary tales and all. Celestine had heard quite a few stories about aggressive Psychics, none of them with a happy ending. It might be a terrible idea, but it was really the best terrible idea, so she tried to tamp down her unease as she pushed another branch out of her face.  
  
Only five minutes had passed since they abandoned the grotto of cadavers. Max remained on Celestine’s left shoulder, while Delphi had occupied her right. Tanner had stayed as well, remaining nestled on her head and insisting he was fine, but she could feel his talons digging deeper into her scalp every time rustling sounded from the bushes. Shauna trailed behind Celestine, Mint in the crook of one arm and her other hand latched firmly on Celestine’s wrist—either for comfort or so they wouldn’t get separated, Celestine didn’t know.  
  
While Max and Tanner conversed in wild tongue, and Shauna argued with Mint in hushed tones, Delphi was oddly silent. He did not look at her, choosing to keep his amber eyes trained on the thicket like a distraction, his ears constantly twitching, but Celestine knew better. He had to have questions. No one suddenly decided to follow a Psychic bird, and she knew he was not above questioning her decisions if they didn’t make sense. Rather admirable in that way, he was.  
  
She bit her lip, thinking back to what he’d said about picking up on telepathic conversations. He’d heard, and he knew. That was the only explanation she could think of. He was probably just waiting for them to be alone before he confronted her on the matter, probably realizing how sensitive this issue was.  
  
Of course he did. He’d grown up in Laboratoires de Sycomore, after all. Celestine was probably not the first of her kind that he’d encountered.  
  
The Forest grew thinner in this part, the trees sparser and the path only half-shaded, as opposed to the shadowy depths they had come from. As the Sigilyph led them, Celestine noticed that the trees were starting to split again, many trunks shooting out from a single base. She frowned, because now that she looked closer, there were five trunks, and they fanned out in a star-like pattern.  
  
_Or like the petals on a flower..._  
  
The Sigilyph stopped, suddenly, and Celestine screeched to halt to avoid bumping into his feathered back. They came to a place where the tree had thinned and sunlight flooded the grotto like a benediction. Weathered grey stone stood out jarringly in the center, amidst the dark, damp earth and complex webs of thin, spindly roots and bright patches of emerald moss. It took the shape of walls and decrepit columns with idyllic whirls, a domed roof that was no longer supported on both sides and was leaning over at a steep angle. Ivy wound around the stone like nooses, trying to choke the structure, or drag it into the depths of the earth as punishment for breaking the otherwise natural view, because this was obviously a human structure. Stonecutters had come here—long ago, by the looks of it, it was cracking and crumbling and falling apart, the ivy was now probably the only thing holding it together—and built its walls, the derelict stumps flanking it that were probably once a pair of spiralling towers. But now it was abandoned, and the Forest seemed to be trying to swallow it whole, erase its existence.  
  
A great set of ivy-covered steps led up to a large doorway, vast and yawning, and Celestine wondered if there might have been doors once, but they had been reduced to dust after thousands of years. On the top step sat a figure that was enormous even from far away, face concealed by a ratty beanie and long, unruly white bangs. His hair was long and white and feathery, greasy-looking in the light and coming all the way down to their waist, and he had dressed himself almost entirely in dark, thick clothing entirely not suited for the weather. The ensemble looked as if it had not withstood the test of time, torn and motheaten, and matched a pair of boots that looked ready to fall apart at a moment’s notice. The only real exception to the dark, dilapidated outfit was a long, still-old-but-slightly-newer-looking green scarf— _What the fuck? How are you not **boiling**  to death? This ain’t Sinnoh, pal_—and a dangling necklace that was home to an iron-wrought, bejewelled key.  
  
The Sigilyph moved again, and Celestine approached tentatively. The stranger, Celestine remembered that the Sigilyph had called him “master”, noticed them and turned. He pinned her with piercing gaze, a single dark eye trained on her, and she felt the breath still in her lungs.  
  
He only had one eye. The other was just an empty socket, a gaping hole barely concealed by his overgrown fringe.  
  
Celestine’s heart pounded and she felt her right eye itch sympathetically. She couldn’t imagine losing any part of her. Seeing it... normally, it wouldn’t bother her like this, but there was an otherworldly air about this stranger that unnerved her, unsettled her, threw her off. She felt the urge to gasp and gawk and comment, but bit her tongue, physically, to stop herself.  
  
It shouldn’t bother her. She’d seen people missing arms before. No big deal.  
  
But it wasn’t just the eye. It was everything about him, his presence, his age, his height. It all just threw her off balance. This was the first time she’d met someone like this, someone so strange and foreign. It took a great deal of willpower not to stop and stare.  
  
“Oh Great Goddess,” Tanner gasped, and Celestine mentally slapped herself for not remembering that he had  _absolutely no tact_ , “Are you  _seeing_  this? You see him too, right? He’s— No way, that’s  _definitely_ — ack!”  
  
Celestine used her free hand—the one not currently being strangled by Shauna’s uncanny death-grip—to lightly smack Tanner upside his little head. “Urusai,” she hissed.  
  
If the Sigilyph’s “master” noticed, he didn’t show it. He stood, and Celestine’s heart missed a beat. She knew she was considered freakishly tall for a girl, but  _wowza_ , she had never had to look so far up to a person before, not since she was a little girl still young enough to hide behind her Maman’s legs without anyone complaining. It wasn’t even the fact that he was standing on the top step of a grand set up stairs almost three times as tall as she was. She looked at him and knew instantly that even if they were on even ground, she would still be looking up to him, craning her neck to glimpse at his ancient-looking face.  
  
Miraculously, Celestine swallowed thickly and managed to find her voice. “Who are you? Why did you want to meet me?”  
  
Silently, and with a grace that belied his great height, he descended the steps. Tension thickened all around Celestine as he approached and she felt Shauna’s hand slide from her wrist to her palm. Celestine gave the hand a reassuring squeeze, but did not tear her eyes off this unknown giant.  
  
He finally reached the bottom step, and Celestine had been right, she had to peer up at him even still. He had about three feet—three. fucking. feet—on her.  
  
“You can call me whatever you like,” he rumbled in a deep way that rattled around in Celestine’s skeleton and told her he didn’t mince words. “I simply thought you might like to meet me.”  
  
Celestine arched a brow and somehow, somehow, managed a daring smirk. “And how’d you figure that?”  
  
Was that a glint of amusement in his single dark eye? He was too tall, she couldn’t tell. “Most people desire to meet their saviors.”  
  
Right. Yes. The Sigilyph and the Beedrill swarm. Celestine managed to slip her hand out Shauna’s and bowed low, reverent, but careful so that she would not topple the three Pokémon balancing on her head and shoulders. “Doumo arigatou gozaimasu. For saving us. Words cannot express my gratitude.”  
  
“Rise,” he grunted. And she did. “The Kantonese apologies are too ostentatious.”  
  
A surge of indignance went through her, but she bit her tongue.  
  
“We really are thankful, though,” Shauna piped up timidly from behind Celestine. The Kantonian glanced at the brunette from her peripheral. “If your Sigilyph hadn’t s-shown up... Oh Golems...”  
  
“Anima,” the giant said. The Sigilyph fluttered over to its master, manifesting those prismatic feet again. An arm was held out for the avianoid to land, and Celestine was suddenly and uncomfortably reminded of Calem and Alistair. The giant gave the avianoid an affectionate rub, earning an odd, contented coo, before reaching for a worn-looking Poké Ball. There was a flash of rosy light, and then the Sigilyph was gone. “He and I are alike. Old and the first of our kind, but that has made us strong.”  
  
Celestine almost thought the old guy was nuts, but Maman had spun stories about fairfolk, tall and beautiful and larger than life, the Immortals of Tir Na Nog. Only he was too old to match them, unless the stories proved false. She almost asked, but had the mind to hold her tongue.  
  
“What is this place?” she asked instead.  
  
“You tell me.”  
  
Celestine frowned. Her gaze slid to one of the stumps, the remains of what have once been a tower, and she caught a glint of something beneath the ivy—something metallic. Eyes narrowing, she approached it cautiously.  
  
When she was close enough, Tanner hopped off her head and perched on the top of the stump. Max chirped inquisitively, but Delphi shushed the young bird almost immediately. Celestine teased at the ivy with her fingers. It had grown thick and wild, like the Forest was trying to swallow the offending structure, and the thick, woody vines were almost hidden by their own vibrant leaves. She started peeling at it, pulling, untangling the knot of wooded vines and too-big leaves, trying to free that metallic glint from its prison of foliage.  
  
By the time she finished, her nails were stained green from the chloroplasts and the image was clear. A gemstone—crimson red, likely ruby or garnet or some other precious stone of that variety—had been embedded into the grey stone. It had three points, a triquetra symbol that had been placed upside-down. Polished black stones, either obsidian or onyx or something like that, had been placed on the end of each point, fashioned into curling claws that looked sharp enough to cut yourself on. Celestine idly touched her fingertip against one, felt the prick of it, but there was no blood. Perhaps time had made them blunt.  
  
She’d never seen the symbol before, but she had a hunch. On her shoulder, she heard Delphi gasp, felt him shiver, and she knew what it was.  
  
Celestine glanced back over her should at Shauna and the stranger, watching her with wide-eyed wariness and almost-concealed amusement respectively. She put a knuckle to her hip, her other hand holding the ivy back. “This is a Shrine for Les Ailes, isn’t it?”  
  
Shauna blanched and Mint squeaked, but the stranger nodded. “The last one still standing.”  
  
“In the middle of a Forest?” Celestine asked, arching a brow.  
  
“Of course,” answered the stranger. “Life and Death cannot exist without each other. That is especially true of the Old Forests—life grows, but then it dies and from the decay, new life is born.”  
  
Celestine hummed skeptically and let the curtain of ivy fall back over the Reaper’s symbol. He had a point, and it mirrored what Maman had always said about the relationship between the Goddess and Death’s Wings. They were entwined, neither capable of destroying the other. When they fought, they always came to a standstill.  
  
How ironic that it was here she would meet someone who knew about her, in a place dedicated to the one who started it all.  
  
The knot of tension in her shoulders loosened. These ruins had once been devoted to death, but she was one of the untouchables. Death could not touch her...and neither could he, not with his Sigilyph tucked away. Her very existence defied death, and if he thought coming to this place would scare her, then he thought wrong. She was not so easily scared. She was fearless. She was invincible, untouchable, a “gardien” whether she liked it or not. Right now, it might just be a good thing.  
  
Celestine walked back over to the steps of the Temple, keeping her head high for more than just looking up at him, at this stranger who posed no threat to her.   
  
“Can I call you Roi?” she asked.  
  
Shauna gawked at her audacity, and the man blinked that single eye of his. “Pardon?” he managed, and he didn’t sound so intimidating when he was caught off-guard, Celestine decided.  
  
“Your Sigilyph called you...” She paused, trying to remember the exact words. Her brows knit together, but it escaped her. Oh well. “...‘Le Roi’ something. It sounded long and I can’t pronounce Kalosian too well. So can I call you Roi for short?”  
  
His lip twitched and Celestine somehow knew that was about as far as his humor-meter went. “If you wish.”

“Celestine,” Shauna said urgently. “Can I talk to you for a sec?”  
  
“Sure?”  
  
To Celestine’s surprise, though, Shauna grabbed her by the wrist and suddenly started pulling her away. At this point, she was used to Shauna dragging her places—she’d had to endure it for an entire week during her stay in Vaniville, after all—but this was different, urgent and desperate. She let out a startled yelp at Shauna’s forwardness, and Max took off in alarm, soaring off to seek comfort from Tanner, who was still perched on the derelict stump of the once-tower. It was hard to resist, because Shauna was so unnaturally strong for a petite girl, but it was one hell of an effort, in Celestine’s opinion. And that was even taking into account that she had to restrain herself to avoid bucking Delphi. The Fennekin let out barks and yips of warning every time she thrashed too hard, which did a good job of keeping her in check.  
  
Shauna only released her when they were a good few feet away from the Reaper’s Temple and the newly-christened “Roi” and his Sigilyph. Far enough so that they were out of the stranger’s reach, Celestine assumed. She couldn’t think of any other reason Shauna might be so inclined to get away from the Temple.  
  
Well, aside from the fact that it was dedicated to the Kalosian god of death. But that was just superstitious nonsense.  
  
“This a Shrine for the Reaper,” Shauna said, though it sounded a little like a question.  
  
“From back when they still had them, yeah.” Celestine glanced back at the structure, the sloping grey stone and the layers of thick green ivy, and tried to picture what it must have looked like before the Blooming and the Reaper’s following fell into disrepute. It must have looked so grand, standing tall and grand with a pair of high towers wrought with jeweled pictograms and magical symbols to validify its sanctity. What kind of people must have served at the Temple? Was worship anything like that of old Kanto, back when the Sacred Birds were believed to bring the seasons and priestesses prepared perfumed incense offerings? Or was there some other magic to it?  
  
Shauna grabbed Celestine by the shoulders and whirled her around. Celestine had never seen Shauna look s serious. “So, we’re at an ancient site dedicated to a death god... and you’re asking some freakishly tall guy if you can call him ‘Roy’?”  
  
Celestine hummed, remembering that unlike her, Shauna was not knee-deep in the world of the Transcendence. It was there, of course, pressed right up against the normal world, this perfect bubble that everyone lived in and pretended was the only one out there. But Celestine knew better. She’d done the same, ignored that world for a long time before she opened her eyes and had to realize that it was real, and alive, and suddenly she was apart of it.  
  
Shauna didn’t need that. The Beedrill were enough for today.  
  
“I don’t think he’s threatening,” Celestine said with a one-shouldered shrug. Which was partially true. She could handle him if anything happened, could distract him long enough for Shauna and the others to escape. “Besides, I think he lives here.”  
  
Delphi blinked at her. “What?”  
  
She arched a brow in his direction. So he was talking now, was he? “Well, do the math. Guy’s obviously reclusive, doesn’t have any new clothes, and he’s here, in the only place in Santalune Forest that can be considered shelter. Maybe if we ask nicely, he’ll let us stay for the night.”  
  
“Are you outta your  _mind_!?” Mint screeched. She wriggled out of Shauna’s arms and landed on the ground, glaring up at the Kantonian. “We ain’t stayin’ in a temple of literal  _doom_.”  
  
“I have to agree with Mint here,” Delphi piped up. “Bad idea.  _Very_  bad idea.”  
  
Celestine rolled her eyes. “Guys, it’s not like the Grim Reaper is going to show up in the middle of the night and smite us if we spend the night in the ruins of his shrine. Newsflash—he doesn’t exist. None of the gods exist. They’re just stories made up by people to explain things that they couldn’t comprehend, because they didn’t have the equipment to fully understand science.”  
  
“...I think that’s a bit harsh,” Shauna muttered.  
  
“The  _point_  is we’re not going to die in the ruins.”  
  
“Even still, it’s giving me some seriously ominous vibes,” Shauna insisted. Her eyes flicked briefly over to the ruins, then back to Celestine almost immediately. “I mean, do you even have any idea why it was abandoned? For all you know, it could have been built on cursed ground or something.”  
  
Celestine arched a brow.  _That_  was her reasoning? “You mean like an ancient burial ground or something?”  
  
Shauna nodded feverishly. “Exactly!”  
  
Celestine turned back to Roi, who was still patiently waiting at the bottom of the ruins’ steps and hadn’t moved an inch while they debated, and cupped a hand to her cheek, calling out, “Oi! These ruins weren’t built on an ancient burial site, were they?”  
  
Roi glanced at them lazily and shook his head.   
  
Celestine frowned a little at his listlessness and turned back to Shauna. “See? We’re all clear. No ancient burial sites in sight.”  
  
Shauna looked uncharacteristically unamused. “Celie. No.”  
  
Celestine exhaled through her nostrils. “Shauna, look at the sky.”  
  
And she did. Celestine followed her gaze, to where the sky was turning pale yellow, the sun dropping over the smudge-like treetops in the distance. The light had turned syrupy and deeper gold while they had trekked through the Forest, and while it would be a few hours before the sun actually set and night claimed its place in the sky, it was doubtful she and Shauna would be able to find their way back to main path before nightfall hit. And even then, they’d have to find a way around the Beedrill nest to avoid provoking what was left of the swarm, which would take another hour or two out of their time. It was likely to be dark before they reached the path again, and it would take even longer before they could set up camp.  
  
In short, it was either blunder around in an unmarked part the Forest, hope they didn’t run into Beedrill or worse and made it back before nightfall, and even then end up right back where they started—or stay in the ruins and start fresh tomorrow.  
  
Shauna looked back at Celestine and sighed, shoulders slumped in resignation. “Fine. But only if he says it’s okay.”  
  
“What!?” both starters yelped while Celestine smiled victoriously.  
  
The Kantonian turned and started walking back towards Roi and the ruins. “Hey, Roi? Any chance we can spend the night here?”  
  
He arched a brow at that. “If you wish. You would tolerate a night here?”  
  
“Assuming it doesn’t suddenly collapse and crush us, yeah,” Celestine answered coolly. She eyed him, waiting for a stronger response than lazy surprise, but there was nothing. He was calm. Too calm. She tried not to scowl.  
  
“I’ll just add that to ‘reasons we shouldn’t be here’,” Shauna grumbled behind her.  
  
Celestine flashed a mischievous smile. “Oh don’t be like that. What happened to ‘making memories, new experiences’ and all that?”  
  
“I’ve already had one mortally terrifying event for today, thanks.”  
  
Celestine’s smile tightened, faltering and straining. She looked away before it snapped like a rubber band stretched too far, ignoring the whispers of  _my fault, my fault, my fault_  as she turned back to Roi. “So it’s okay is what I’m hearing?”  
  
_Try and stop me_ , were the unspoken words. She was daring him, here. Daring him to fight her, to challenge her as deathless, as a “gardien”. There was a question hanging in the air— _Should you be afraid?_ —and Celestine was trying to discern who it should be directed at, because saving her didn’t mean she would just allow him to intimidate her. She owed her life to no one, yielded to no one, unkillable as she was. He couldn’t expect someone like her to be thrown off by these ruins, by him holding the cards when she had a few of her own hiding under the table. She was not going to beg for mercy or tremble in his presence. She was  _not_  going to be  _afraid_. No, not her—she was not a force to take  _lightly_.  
  
But he hardly seemed to care about her display, her bravado or her subtle bluster. His weathered face was impassive, the gaze in his single eye not antagonistic or hostile in the slightest sense, not giving her any indication that she should be bristling the way she was. In fact, he was oddly calm, and not in a way that suggested the ease of being in complete control. No, it was more as if he simply did not care about control or dominating or challenges, which sent a jolt of indignance through Celestine. If he didn’t care, and this wasn’t a power play, then why had he even brought her here, saved her? Certainly not out of charity. People did not stick their necks out for people like her. They were made to take care of themselves, be the saviors, after all.  
  
He stepped aside, allowing them to pass. “If you wish.”  
  
A scowl replaced her smirk as she climbed the steps, Shauna and Mint following. No reaction as she passed him.  
  
She continued to climb, turning to eye him over her shoulder. Still no reaction.  
  
Before Celestine knew it, they were at the mouth of the ruins, and still Roi had given no indication or acknowledgement of her or what she was. She almost had half a mind to march back down and demand an explanation—you did not suddenly save someone, bring them to the ruins of one of Les Ailles’ shrines, and then completely  _ignore_  the glaringly obvious—but Delphi’s awed gasp stopped her.  
  
She turned, and any lingering hostility evaporated immediately.  
  
On the outside, the ruins were old, thick with ivy and worn with age, unappealing to the point of being almost ugly. But the inside was the exact opposite—the space itself was  _enormous_ , at least fifty by sixty feet, and every inch of it sparkled brilliantly with beaten gold, glimmering in every direction that her eyes darted. At first, it seemed as if the walls were simply plated in thick, raw sheets of gold with no artistic elements whatsoever, but as her eyes adjusted, she found that shadows pooled in creases and around intricate carvings, and gemstones of all shades and hues glittered in the light. It looked as if it had been pulled out of a museum, or the castle galleria of some ancient king, perfectly untouched, and it held an aura of power, of mystery and arcana that the outside did not, like there was divine presence here even long after the Age of Myth had ended. The air tasted richly of metal and times long passed.  
  
The light source itself wasn’t the slanting rays pouring in from the entrance, remarkably enough, but a great glowing spire of crystal that grew from the ceiling, like an ancient chandelier, showering the space with tessellations of watery soft pale red light that set fire to the walls and turned the carvings from lovely to dazzling. Celestine took a few steps inside, gaping at the masterpiece, at the carvings, the images of people and Pokémon alike, of magical symbols and spells and an ancient, pictographic language that had been lost to time. Images of king on thrones and gods visiting mortal, warriors fighting in battles and Pokémon triumphing alongside their masters. It was dizzying, this ancient masterpiece, this beautiful, sparkling intricacy—she had never seen anything like this, and it made the air in her lungs still.  
  
“Oh  _wow_ ,” Delphi breathed from her shoulder, soft and reverent. The orange tuft from his ear brushed against her cheek, comfortingly warm.  
  
“Take a picture,” Mint begged from behind Shauna’s legs. Shauna, mesmerized, started reaching into her bag and rifling around for a camera.  
  
Celestine walked further in, stepping around the great crystal in the center. Long ago, it must have hung high over everyone’s head, but the roof had fallen and slanted, and now the tip of the spire came down low enough for her to press her forehead against it if she wished. She paused, her hand rising up to touch it, but the air around it seemed to thicken with that feeling of ancient power, that feeling that was enough to make you stop and stare and appreciate the wonders of times long passed. In fact, Celestine could have sworn that, as she eyed it, that it was pulsing, like a heartbeat.  
  
She stilled, curled her fingers. Drew her hand back. Something told her touching it was a bad idea. Or at least, not a good one.  
  
The sound of a camera clicking broke Celestine’s trance. She turned away from the crystal to see Shauna, camera poised, and slowly backing into the room and whirling around as she took picture after picture.  
  
“I can’t believe this,” Shauna gasped, lowering the camera. The surrounding treasure trove glittering in her wide, full-moon eyes, and the shine of the gold gave her olive skin a shimmering look. A million drops of light danced in her hair. “I’ve just... I never—”  
  
“It is a marvelous sight, isn’t it?”  
  
Celestine whirled around. Roi stood at the entrance, his great, ancient head bowed to accommodate the low, slanting ceiling. He regarded them with that single eye of his, and his gaze was flinty enough to make her skin prickle uncomfortably, but she forced herself to meet it without looking away.  
  
“Yeah it is!” Shauna exclaimed, bouncing over to him, seemingly forgetting her apprehension from a few minutes ago. “How old is this place? It looks brand new!” A pause. “On the inside, I mean. The outside’s a total wreck.”  
  
Celestine rolled her eyes and turned away, edging closer to the carvings. She ran her fingers along them, felt the coolness of the metal beneath her fingertips. They really  _were_  beautiful...  
  
Behind her, she heard Roi explaining something about murals on the ceiling.  
  
Celestine arched a brow, but then she heard Delphi gasp. Turning to Delphi, she found him staring straight up, auriferous flecks dancing in his wide, amber eyes, so it looked like a harmonious melding of orange and gold and red, like the essence of a flame had been poured into his irises. She followed his gaze, and oh, wow, she’d thought the  _carvings_  were beautiful, but  _Holy Birds_.  
  
It was not like the walls, which displayed delicate whorls and royalty in their best light, all radiant brilliance and godly splendor. Crafted metal and resplendent gemstones did not make up these images—rather, it was paint and ochres, soot and ash mixed with water to make an ink with which that artist had painted out destruction in its rawest form. It was beautiful, in the way disasters were, in a way that they grabbed your attention and never let go again. Twisted spires and broken pillars and crumbling parapets, black and red, blood and death, senseless. There was no pattern to it, no rhyme or rhythm or reason whatsoever. It was as if someone had taken a knife and had stabbed into the stone, creating gaping wounds that wept blood so vividly red it made Celestine’s eyes hurt. And jutting out from the mosaic of crimson and darkness were crystals, dozens of them. They were blue, in contrast to the central one, and small, broken-looking, like someone had wedged shards of glass into wet cement and left it to dry. A large cluster of them ringed the main, red crystal spire, like a flower was blooming around it, petals elongated and spear-like. And yes, it was beautiful, but only in the most terrifying way.   
  
“That must be the Azoth Flower,” Delphi murmured, a touch of awe in his voice that could have easily been mistaken for fear. Maybe that’s what it actually was—fear—and she was mistaking it for something more positive.  
  
Celestine had no idea what that was, or what he was talking about. Maman had told her stories, yes, but they were always incomplete, rushed and hurried, either told in the morning as she was getting the girls ready for school or in the shadows of night to pacify too-awake minds just as bedtime beckoned. They were told by a woman who worked constantly, who rushed out the door every morning to get to work and may not even be there when Celestine woke up, and came home late every night and sometimes not even at all, sometimes spent weeks away from home and left her charges in the care of a family friend. She told stories because Celestine liked them, and Celestine liked them because they made her feel close to this woman, this not-quite stranger who existed like a shadow in their home, gone with the sunrise and back long after it had set. Celestine had rarely asked for endings, though—at the time, it was because it meant Maman would have to come back and finish it. Later on, though, the endings stopped mattering, and soon enough they were just bits and pieces that made her feel like her mother was still with her, connected them over the span of hours and the length of miles.  
  
Now, though, she regretted never asking for the endings. It wasn’t exactly like she could ask for them now, after all.  
  
_Azoth Flower, huh? Maman never mentioned anything like that. I guess I’ll have to look it up._  
  
She grunted and wandered back to the far wall. It contained a massive triptych, framed by shimmering gold and glittering jewels that would put any royal crown to shame. The central image was that of a Y-shaped avianoid probably meant to represent the Reaper—composed entirely of solid, polished garnet and set into the golden walls, glossy talons of onyx and obsidian, omnipotent and god-like and ominous, the true “Wings of Death”—illuminated by the slanting, deep golden rays of the setting sun and the glow of the crystal alike. The image was flanked on either side by images of women, likely priestesses, dressed in glittering robes and their dark hair done up elegantly with glittering hairclips. They held their arms up, tiny, gleaming orbs hovering above their palms, the left one candyfloss blue and the right carnelian red.   
  
“This is probably Les Ailles giving the world Transcendence,” Delphi murmured, him and his running commentary. And there was that same tone, that same fearful reverence, only it was much greater than before. His Kalosian accent grew particularly thick around the word “transcendence”, like the tongues of a flame licking at old parchment.  
  
“Probably,” Celestine agreed. She heard Shauna asking if Roi really lived here, and Roi rumbling in return that no, he didn’t, he was only visiting for the purposes of prayer and atonement. For what, he did not say.  
  
She felt the warm tuft of Delphi’s ear brush and slide off her cheek as he turned his head to face her—she kept her eyes locked on the triptych. “Hey, Trainer?”  
  
Anticipation buzzed in her chest, because  _here it comes_. The inevitable, the penny in the air. “Yes?”  
  
He inhaled sharply. It sliced the air like a knife. “You’re Aesith, aren’t you?”  
  
And the penny drops.  
  
It felt odd, hearing the word out loud. Not quite heavy, like adding on a weight, and not quite liberating either, like removing said weight. Instead it just stayed there, like it always had, like it always would, because nothing had changed. She would still heal if she was cut or broke a bone, and that would happen regardless of if Delphi knew or not. But the  _word_ —the  _word_  was the loaded part, the trigger and the bullet it let loose, the shattered glass and the loud bang and the confusion and the aftermath. The word was the weapon and the kill all at once.  
  
She blinked. Swallowed. “Yes.”  
  
Delphi gasped, but he already knew. He was smarter than she gave him credit for.  
  
Celestine glanced over her shoulder. Roi was departing, and Shauna whirled around to face them with something like triumph in her eyes.  
  
“He says we can stay!” Shauna cheered, seeming to completely forget her earlier trepidation.  
  
Celestine forced a smile, but it felt tight, plastic, not quite real yet. “Don’t tell Shauna, okay?” she whispered before she could stop herself.  
  
Delphi didn’t answer. He didn’t need to. He turned away, and she knew he would say nothing.

* * *

“I still can’t believe you thought this was a good idea,” Tanner grumbled as they set up camp inside the shrine. According to Roi, they didn’t need his permission—he didn’t live here, couldn’t keep them out, and if they felt comfortable enough to stay the night in the ruins of the Reaper’s shrine, then by all means, they should.  
  
Shauna liked to look at is more as staying the night surrounded by beautiful, ancient artwork. She kept saying how she definitely had to tell her dad about it once they got out of the Forest. Screw Menhir Trail, she said, this was far more enticing for an archaeologist.  
  
Celestine grunted. She had been the one to suggest this, and she had no regrets about it. The place was beautiful, and she had no fear of imaginary gods. There was a roof in case it rained and the chances of wild Pokémon approaching a manmade structure, even an ancient one, were abysmal. The thicket had been all but silent once they approached two feet of the ruins’ perimeter. Celestine chalked that up to superstitions that she didn’t believe in. Being around death didn’t bother her—maybe once, but not anymore. The ruins, as a whole, did not bother her. Sure, some of the images, like the triptych on the back wall, made the back of her throat prick uncomfortably, but she could deal with that.  
  
She couldn’t deal with him bringing her here and then ignoring her. He was after something. He had to be. And the anticipation was killing her.  
  
Above her, the broken crystal shards winked, like stars set in a broken sky, with cold celestial light.  
  
The sun had set and Celestine had brought all her camping supplies—save for a tent or a tarp, they had a roof over their head, why bother?—from her Storage Key file, and it was then that she discovered she’d accidentally left her boots in the grotto of dead Beedrill. Being saved by a Unovan bird-thing had a way of making such things slip her mind.  
  
“Just wear other shoes,” Shauna said dismissively, unrolling her sleeping bad.  
  
That wasn’t the point. It was the principle of the thing.  
  
She got up and told Shauna she was going to talk to Roi for a minute. Delphi tried to go with her, but one look sent the Fennekin bolting for the safety of the sleeping bag, startling Tanner enough to take to the air and grumble incoherently. Max chirped curiously after her.  
  
Celestine found him at the foot of the stairway, hiking a bag onto his shoulders the way a Hiker or Backpacker did just before a battle, or the way a traveler does before they set out.  
  
Her blood boiled.  
  
“What the  _fuck_ ,” she hissed as she descended the steps. He turned to her with a slow deliberateness that told her he was not surprised in the slightest—he expected her to be there, and that only pissed her off further. She stopped at the bottom of the stairs and glared, trying not to feel exposed and immature because of just  _how fucking tall_  he was. “Are you leaving?”  
  
“There is no reason to linger,” he answered frankly.  
  
Celestine narrowed her eyes. Playing  _dumb_. Why didn’t anyone ever get to the point, act like this was some game and the person who avoided the topic longest was the undisputed winner?  
  
“You know I’m Aesith,” she said, and it sounded like an accusation, a confirmation, and a death sentence all at once.  
  
He made a low, rumbling sound that wasn’t a denial, but not a confirmation either.  
  
“Your Sigilyph called me a ‘gardien’,” she continued, pressing, pushing, waiting for him to  _say_  something,  _react_ , goddammit. “You know. Why did you bring me here?”  
  
“I already told you—”  
  
“You thought I might like to meet my savior,” Celestine interrupted irritably, planting her hands on her hips. “Yeah, I’m not buying it. Let’s try it this way—why  _save_  me in the first place?”  
  
A pause.  
  
“If you know I’m Aesith, you also know I can’t die. That’s just common sense.”  
  
He hummed thoughtfully. His expression didn’t change.  
  
Her left brow twitched. “Okay, am I gonna have to start beating answers out of you? Because don’t think I can’t.”  
  
“I am bigger and stronger than you,” he said flatly.  
  
She arched a brow daringly. “That’s what  _you_  think.”  
  
He regarded her with something like amusement, but it felt oddly diminutive. To him, she probably looked like a gusty Meowth standing up to a full-grown Arcanine, bristled and hissing and feisty but not standing a chance. Joke was on him—she had quite a bit of self-defense training under her belt, and she remembered a great deal of it.  
  
At the same time, a small part of her hoped he wouldn’t call her bluff.  
  
He hummed again. “If you are that curious, here is your answer—in truth, I wanted to meet you.”  
  
She blinked, dumbfounded. “...that’s it?”  
  
“That’s it.” The sky was fading into orange and lavender, bright and bursting around his profile. His silhouette looked like a great, dark shadow in contrast.  
  
“So...” She shook her head and crossed her arms. The light slanted around his form in too-bright beams that made her squint, but she passed it off as narrowing her eyes in annoyance. “Nothing like, asking me to assassinate someone? Or torturing me to check if I really can’t be killed? Find out my limits and all that crap?”  
  
He arched that single eyebrow of his and she felt the urge to punch for being so deliberately calm that it bordered smug. “What a dark place your mind goes to.”  
  
She growled.  
  
“Understandable, I suppose. Given what you’ve been through.”  
  
“ _What_?” she bit out.  
  
He hummed a third time, but there was a sympathetic note to it. “I am sorry, Celestine Lavieaux. It is unfair for one so young to see so much of man’s wanton cruelty.”  
  
An electric chill went through Celestine. She sucked in a breath, trying to stay breathing, keep her heart beating, keep her thoughts from whirling  _how does he know who i am he knows my name what the fuck is going on **oh dear Birds**  is he with—_  
  
“H-How...” she managed, and that was it, her voice gave up, and all she could hear was the sound of blood pounding in her ears.  
  
Roi fixed her with a flinty look. The lack of light and his unruly fringe did well to conceal his expression, made him look dark and menacing, the shadows playing with the angles of his face and exaggerating them. “A great many know your name, child. Your birth shocked the world, after all.”  
  
She applied more pressure to her crossed arms, convincing herself it was because she was pissed and not scared and not hugging herself. “That so?”  
  
“Indeed. And I must say...” He regarded her silently, gaze unreadable. “I fear for you.”  
  
Her mouth went dry, and she wasn’t sure if she should be angry or scared or both. This was wrong. The balance of power had shifted back in his favor, and she hated it. She hated being the one left waiting, in the dark, hanging onto every word.  
  
“Maybe you should mind your own business,” she bit back.  
  
Roi stared at her, and she felt the urge to run back inside the shrine. “...let me see your eyes.”  
  
She took a step back, hackles rising. “W-What?”  
  
His arm reached out and his hand cupped her chin—she tensed, eyes widening, muscles tightening. She wanted to pull away, but she couldn’t, joints locking up with the urge to run, why did your body always clamp when you’re in danger, make it harder for you to run away when you really need to? He inclined his head, looked down at her, scanned her face with that narrow, dark eye. It felt like his gaze was cutting her open and looking deep, deep inside, all the ugly parts of her that should stay hidden, stay out of the eyes of people like him.  
  
“As I thought,” he said and Celestine bristled. That didn’t make sense—Aesith eyes were not unusual, not unless their aura was active, and hers wasn’t. Right now, her eyes were the same deep, intense shade of blue they always were, no supernatural glow in sight.  
  
“Let go of me,” she demanded, “or I will kick you so hard you’ll never be able to reproduce.”  
  
He grunted in response and let his hand fall. Celestine stumbled, off-balance, as if his hand had been the only thing keeping her from falling over. Her shadow had grown long behind her, distorted and sharp-looking, as if there were a great dark blade fanning out behind her.  
  
“History always repeats itself,” Roi told her in a solemn voice like stone and metal creaking under its own weight. “Tell me, have you heard this expression? Laissez vos fleurs fleurir, mais n'oubliez pas qu'ils deviennent noirs.”  
  
His strange accent curled around the words, exaggerated them in ways that made them sound not-so-Kalosian, made them sound older and mystic. But Celestine recognized them—Maman always muttered them under her breath, whenever Celestine achieved something and allowed the warm glow of pride to intoxicate her, strip her of her common sense and her humility.  
  
“I’ve heard of it,” Celestine said. She took a step back, trying not to feel vulnerable, to feel weak and exposed. “Maman used to say it. She’d never tell me what it meant, though.”  
  
Roi hummed. He turned away, hiking his pack higher. “Good luck, child.”  
  
This was too abrupt, too cryptic. Celestine's mind went blank for a moment, but she managed to regain some of her sense as he passed her. She whirled around and glared at his back. “O-Oi! I’m seventeen! I’m not a  _child_!”  
  
“That’s what  _you_  think,” he returned, the same words she shot at him just a minute ago. And then he was vanishing into the treeline, leaving Celestine furious and frustrated and dumbstruck.  
  
“You owe me a pair of boots!” she screamed at his retreating form. When he didn’t answer, she clenched her teeth and hissed through them, feeling hopeless and dumb and just— _angry_.  
  
She whirled around and stormed back inside the ruins. Her shadow raced out in front of her, and it reached the top of the stairs before she did.

* * *

The whole group fell asleep quickly in that glittering place without discussing anything that happened that day—Roi, Ray, the Beedrill, the Sigilyph, none of it. Shauna clammed up when Delphi tried to press it, and Mint grew snappish. Tanner insisted there was no point, what’s done was done, while Celestine was still too pissed about Roi’s parting words and seeming assessment of her to hold a civil conversation. The Fennekin sighed and flattened his ears in defeat, though he cast Celestine a look that said he wanted to discuss her supernatural nature sooner rather than later. Once the sun had set, leaving behind a black canvas filled with glittering silver and Shauna’s breathing had relaxed to indicate sleep, Celestine had softly assured him in near-silent whispers she would hold up to her agreement, go into more details once they reached the safety of Santalune City.  
  
That night, Celestine dreamt of the Reaper slipping down to the mortal world like a living shadow, bleeding darkness as he held out a handful of marble-sized crystals glowing with unearthly light and offered humanity a smile so sweet that they couldn’t help but accept. She dreamed of a hart with a heavenly crown of antlers and a great hole in the earth, a gaping wound that bled crystals shards. She dreamed of a dead world that reflected celestial blue, lustre eaten from the inside out, until there was nothing left but a ruined, lovely place where no one could die and no one could live.  
  
When she opened her eyes again, there was a little scream trapped in her throat and sunrise burnt her corneas.  
  
Celestine was by no means a morning person. It must have been something about this shrine, with its old power and its ancient atmosphere, something that dug its nails into her and wouldn’t let go no matter how hard she tried to shake it off. She ended up shedding her sleeping bag in silence, sloughing the dark red nylon off like a chrysalis, and tiptoeing over to the entrance. The predawn sky was dark blue and starless, somewhere between night and day, and buttery yellow rays were reaching out like fingers ready to grasp. A blurry line of amber coloration separated the treeline from the skyline—lines, borders, all of it divided, never mixing, never allowed to.  
  
Celestine made her way to the stairs and sat down on the first step, sweeping her hair out behind her like a cape. She should cut it, but she didn’t want to—her eyelids felt heavy and she was probably half-asleep, or maybe she was dreaming. Her bleary eyes found the horizon line, and unbidden she thought of Shauna, still asleep inside the shrine.  
  
_Sacred Birds, Lavieaux. What are you doing?_  
  
Getting attached, that was what she was doing, which was a horrible idea. It was nothing against Shauna or any of the others. Tierno and Trevor were okay, Serena and Shauna were nice, and while Calem had been a jerk— _oh right, I have to apologize next time I see him_ , Celestine remembered with a heavy sigh—Shauna had repeatedly assured her that he was a nice guy, deep down. But that wasn’t the point. Once she was done in Kalos, she wasn’t coming back. They would stay here, move on with their lives, and they didn’t need to cope with a void her absence would leave. And likewise, she didn’t want to end up missing Shauna’s bright, sparkling smiles and Tierno’s laidback disposition and Serena’s dorkiness and Trevor’s weird mood swings. It would just be too hard, growing used to such things and then fighting back a hollow ache when she realized she would never experience them ever again.  
  
Besides, she was trouble. Her very essence was dangerous and a defiance of the natural order. The whole reason she was here was to stir up the region and attract trouble that she would otherwise not have any outsiders dragged into. Hakase had already complicated things with Delphi—the poor kid was going to have seen hell by the time all this was over, if he even survived the ordeal—and she had half a mind to coldcock him with a mallet for that. But if she added the human factor in, Shauna and Mint and Tierno and Trevor and Serena— _ohh mother of the Genesis **no**_. Celestine squeezed her eyes shut and forced herself to breathe, in, out, in, out.  
  
She was not getting them involved. End of story. It was a mistake even getting involved with them thus far—the Beedrill incident had made her realize that, just how far removed they were from her and how terrible it would be if their worlds blurred with hers. From now on, she needed to pull away, needed to stop this before it started. Having friends would be nice, sure, but it was a luxury Celestine could not afford, and she hadn’t come to Kalos to make friends, anyway. She came to Kalos for one reason and one reason only.  
  
Her eyes closed, she could visualize it. The tragic end, the beautiful downfall, the image of all that work  _ruined_ , violent and lovely.  
  
When Celestine opened her eyes again, the amber line had grown thicker and deeper, and from there the divide would just keep growing. The sky would get bright, but the Forest would stay just as wild and perilous as before—and that was how it would all play out. She was making the world safer by doing this, she told herself, but she would stay Aesith, now until the day her body grew too old to support a beating heart and gave out.  
  
Lines existed for a reason.  
  
Celestine got up and went back inside, immediately zeroing in on her bag. She folded her legs beneath her and opened it, rummaging around a little.  _Storage Key. Nope. Poké Balls. Nuh uh. Poké Dex. No. Where is it?_  
  
“A _ha_ ,” she said softly, pulling out the HoloCaster. Like her Poké Dex, it was thin in her fingers, barely an inch thick. Gold tessellations glinted off its sleek, polished surface.  
  
_Please tell me there’s reception._  
  
She switched it on, and—yup, just her luck. Instead of the bar symbol to indicate wifi connection, there was just a little “x”. No reception.  
  
A heavy sigh left her lips.  _Perfect._  
  
The list of contacts had been brought up automatically. “Beladonis” glared back at her in blocky white letters, burning into her corneas. They were there even when she blinked.  
  
She turned it off. It was probably for the best, all things considered. He’d probably try and convince her otherwise, insist that she needed to focus on re-entering the world, easing herself back into society—things she could worry about later, after everything was said and done.  
  
Celestine dropped her HoloCaster back in her bag and slung it over shoulder. She went back outside.  
  
The sky brightened considerably before Shauna woke up and joined her. Mint was asleep in her arms and she’d let her hair down last night, so now it curled a little around her shoulders, made her look older and more mature suddenly. Celestine thought she looked kind of pretty like that. It was almost a shame she had a penchant for childish pigtails.  
  
“Morning,” Shauna said, a little groggily. She blinked blearily and sat down next to Celestine.  
  
Celestine grunted. Small talk led to bonding, and she couldn’t afford bonding.  
  
Shauna glanced at her. “You okay?”  
  
Celestine got to her feet and walked down a few steps before she turned back to Shauna, folding her hands as if in prayer with a deep, apologetic bow. “Gomen nasai—I’m sorry.”  
  
“A-About?” Shauna asked awkwardly.  
  
“The Beedrill,” Celestine said. “The only reason you went off the path was to follow me, and that wouldn’t have happened if I hadn’t come with me.”  
  
Shauna snorted a laugh. “It’s not like you knew that was gonna happen.”  
  
Celestine kept her eyes lowered, fixed on her bare feet, remembering the glowing amber line on the horizon, the division between sky and Forest. “...still.”  
  
“Celie,” Shauna said, and here her voice sounded harder, steadier. “Look at me.”  
  
Celestine straightened. From where she stood and where Shauna sat, they were at eye-level. Shauna’s eyes shimmered with a silent, smoldering strength that Celestine didn’t know she had.  
  
“That Beedrill thing was not your fault,” she growled. “Don’t you dare blame yourself, you here me?”  
  
“...okay.”  
  
“I mean it, Celie. There’s really no point, anyway. What happened, happened. Nothing’s gonna change that—so why worry about it?”  
  
“Because you almost died,” Celestine retorted coolly.  
  
Shauna tilted her head to the side. Her mocha hair waterfalled past her shoulders. “So did you.”  
  
_No_ , Celestine wanted to say.  _Unlike you, I was never in danger. The only thing that can kill me is time and that’ll take at least a century._  
  
“And I was scared,” she said instead, and it wasn’t too far from the truth. “Why is it that you aren’t?”  
  
“I  _was_ ,” Shauna retorted, a little defensively. “But I’m not anymore. And you wanna know why?”  
  
“Not particularly, but I sense you’re going to tell me anyway.”  
  
Shauna frowned.  
  
Celestine rolled her eyes.  
  
Shauna sighed and set Mint down. She stood and suddenly Celestine was looking up at her, those mint-colored eyes burning with that quiet strength. There was something stern there, something resolute and definite, a calcified resolve. “Okay, Celie, you listen here. If you had asked me two years ago if this would be enough to make me quit and go back home, then the answer would have been a wholehearted ‘yes’. I was  _terrified_ , goddammit, and I thought I was gonna  _die_. But y’know what? A  _hell_  of a lot of things can kill you. Like, seriously.  _Everything_  can kill you. Even water! You drown in the  _fucking bathtub_!  
  
“As a kid, I was really quiet, really sullen. I didn’t take a lot of risks. Hell, the only reckless stuff I did was when I stood up for my friends, or when I came out as pansexual. Great Behemoth, that was terrifying. I didn’t even want to move to Kalos all those years ago because I was  _enamored_  with stability.” And here Shauna spat, actually spat, like the word  _enamored_  was just too hard to pronounce without an ounce of venom. “And then my uncle died, and we had to go to his funeral, which was taking place in Lilycove. I’d never been to Lilycove. I’d never been all that close to my uncle. I didn’t really want to go, disrespectful or not, but I had to, y’know?  
  
“Okay, so, my uncle. He was an actuary. You know what an actuary is? They’re the guys who work out all the insurance risks and calculate just how risky certain situations are. My uncle—he prided himself on his ability to calculate danger, to suck all the adrenaline and the emotion out of it and break it down into little numbers. And his funeral was just so... so... so  _boring_. Not to be disrespectful or anything, ‘cause it was a funeral, y’know? It’s not like I expected there would be confetti and a buffet, but... I mean, all these people, the stuff they said about him... Colossus, Celie, it was  _heartbreaking_. I mean, the guy basically got up every morning, went to work, did his stuff, and then went home and did nothing. Like, maybe he’d go out to dinner with a client or two, but that’s  _it_. Everyone who wasn’t family that went up there and spoke, they only ever talked about how good he was at his job. He didn’t have any  _friends_. He just had colleagues and clients. He didn’t even have a significant other! He died alone, and probably unfulfilled.”  
  
Shauna looked down at her feet, and Celestine was almost relieved. The burning in Shauna’s eyes was so uncharacteristic, so intense that it made sweat break out on the back of Celestine’s neck. She didn’t know what to say, how to react to this intense, almost rueful-sounding Shauna, so different from the usually flighty, peppy one she was used to.  
  
“Then this woman showed up,” Shauna continued—the broken silence nearly made Celestine jump, even though Shauna’s voice was so hushed. The  _intensit_ y to it... “No one recognized her, not even my grandma. She showed up late, but she asked to speak, and because it was  _such_  a let down, they let her. As it turns out, she used to date my uncle, back before he got all boring and stuff. They dated for almost six years, and the whole time, she was just waiting for him to  _propose_ —but he  _never did_. She said she thought he was her soulmate, but he never proposed. Eventually she got tired of waiting, broke things off, and married some other guy—who she’s currently divorced to, might I add—and she said she always regretted it.  
  
“She said she always wondered how things would’ve been different if she married my uncle. How he was perfect for her in every way, smart and funny and sweet—except he never took risks, never really  _lived_...and then she left, just like that. Laid a flower on the coffin, wished him luck in the afterlife, and then, just, gone. But what she said... it struck me,  _really_  struck me. I realized that if I was gonna end up the same way, if I didn’t change things. I wanted to  _live_ , y’know? Experience things, make memories. I didn’t want to be remembered for all the things I didn’t do, or look back and think of all the risks I should’ve taken, but never did!”  
  
“Shauna—”  
  
“ _Don’t interrupt_.” Shauna’s face was taught, ardent and fierce. Celestine had never seen this before, not in her. “Can I just  _finish_ , okay? ‘Cause I’m on a roll here.”  
  
Celestine blinked. “...okay.”  
  
“Right. Right.” Shauna paused, and her expression softened into something vaguely sheepish. “Um, where was I?”  
  
“Making memories? And how it pertains to the Beedrill incident?”  
  
“Oh. Right, yeah. Okay—look. You may think I’m this naïve little girl who doesn’t know anything about the world or about Journeys, but you’re wrong there. I’m aware of all the risks and stuff. I know how dangerous it is. There’s a reason me and the guys waited a year or so after we got our travel permits. We all studied. I know the dangers, I know not to stray off the path and take on more than I can chew. I knew it was a bad idea to follow you, but y’know what? I was worried about you. ‘Scuse me. But even though I was scared of the Beedrill—fricking  _terrified_ , might I add, my life  _flashed before my eyes_ —I’m still here. I made it out alive.  
  
“And y’know what? I wouldn’t trade it for the world. It’s another experience, another memory I made on this Journey. And it was scary, yeah, but I gotta have memories of fear to know how to be brave, y’know? Every memory’s important. And it led us here, to this... this... gorgeous shrine-temple-place. And  _that_  is definitely a memory I’m gonna treasure. I even got pictures! The way I see it, I could freak out about all the negative stuff, or I could think about how it led us to this really pretty place. I choose the latter. You get what I’m saying?”  
  
Celestine was about to respond, but Mint rolled over and groaned. “Why’re you so  _lou_ — ack!”  
  
The Chespin rolled off the step and tumbled down the stairs with a yelp. Celestine swooped down, catching Mint before she could tumble passed.  
  
“ _Ow_ ,” Mint whined.  
  
Shauna took a step down. “Celestine—”  
  
“Let’s wake the others up,” Celestine said, straightening. She didn’t know what else to say, honestly. Shauna’s sincere passion, that quiet strength—she just,  _couldn’t_. “C’mon.”  
  
Shauna heaved a sigh and stalked back into the shrine.  
  
Celestine thought of the amber line in the sky, let the image of it burn into her mind as she followed. Lines existed for a reason.

* * *

**Current Team:**

_Delphi, Male Fennekin (Lv 7)_  
_Docile, Takes plenty of siestas_  
_Ability: Blaze_  
_Moves: Scratch, Tail Whip, Ember_  
_Met: Vaniville ~~Aquacorde~~  Town_  
  
_Max, Male Pidgey (Lv 6)_  
_Naïve, Very finicky_  
_Ability: Tangled Feet_  
_Moves: Tackle, Sand Attack_  
_Met: Route Two_  
  
_Ray, Male Panpour (Lv 4)_  
_Quiet, Likes to relax_  
_Ability: Gluttony_  
_Moves: Scratch, Play Nice, Leer_  
_Met: Santalune Forest_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For some reason it never occurred to me to post my current team stats. Dumb me.
> 
> Inspiration for this comes from Rictus by plutoscatharsis.
> 
> Aesith: in Irish folklore, there are beings called “aos si” that are comparable to that of fae or Lord of the Rings-esque elves. “Aos si” roughly translates to “people of the mounds”, because the Irish believed these immortal beings resided in the hills, which led to a portal of another world, the world of the immortals. While “aos si” is the newer term, the older term was “aes sidhe”, however “sidhe” was often spelled “sith”.
> 
> Aes + sith = Aesith.
> 
>  
> 
> Translations:  
> \- Ima = "now" in Japanese  
> \- Imasugu = "Right now" in Japanese  
> \- Ima yare = "Do it now" in Japanese  
> \- Doumo arigatou gozaimasu = a very respectful way of saying "thank you" in Japanese, basically an over-the-top show of gratitude  
> \- Anima’s name means “life” in Latin.  
> \- "le roi tragique" translates to "the tragic king" in French.
> 
> Now, you can run the phrase Roi says through Google Translate, but it probably won't make sense without context. I'll explain it later on at some point, promise.
> 
> Celestine’s mom was chronically absent and kinda distant, but she still loved her daughter! She used stories and snippets of her childhood to connect with Celestine, and Celestine was okay with that. But she DOES have some trust issues, so...
> 
> That's all for now,  
> Luna out


	10. World Building 2

**I.**

The PokeDex was invented by a one Professor Samuel Okido, a veteran of the Crimson War who aspired to find a way for Trainers to have a world of knowledge on Pokemon behavior, Type advantage, and locations at their fingertips.  
  
The first alpha test of the Dex was first carried out by Okido's own grandson, Shigeru Okido and a promising young Trainer named Sato Akahiro—they are more commonly known as Trainers "Blue" and "Red" respectively. Later, two more prototypes were created to be tested by Midori Ayogai and Kiri Takane, more famously known as "Green" and "Yellow" respectively.  
  
The Dex's beta test was carried out in two different locations—one in Sinnoh, under the possession of a young Cynthia Nordstern, and two in Hoenn under the possession of May Senri and Brendan Birch, children of the Petalburg Gym Leader and Professor Anderson Birch respectively.  
  
The next stage of the Dex development occurred in Unova and Kalos under the supervision of the region's respective professors. The first completed run of a fully functional PokeDex, what would later become known as a "Dex run", was completed by one of Professor Augustine Sycomore's pupils, Dexio LaFontaine. After this, several more Dex runs were completed in other regions, carried out by the following individuals: Aurea Juniper in Unova, Kotone Utsugi in Kanto and Johto, Wally Delgado in Hoenn, and Lucas Rowan in Sinnoh.  
  
The only region to not be fully documented is Alola, but efforts are currently being undergone in order to improve the current Dex model and complete a Dex run of the islandic region.  
  
The accumulated data has since been added into one massive project entitled "Project National". Current models of the Dex do not document information, but are instead computer interfaces that can access the data in Project National from the cloud.  
  
Sadly, Okido's dream of all Trainers having access to the Dex is still not yet realized. The computer interfaces themselves are expensive to manufacture, meaning that only the wealthy have access to them on the market. Prominent researchers have larger access to these interfaces and often dole them out as they see fit to those whom they deem as qualified, though it is rarely more than three at a time.

 

 

 

**II.**

The Kalos League issues cards based on the owner's occupation and intent with training and interaction with Pokemon. They are color coded as follows:

  * Blue—League Trainer. Don't always collect badges but do have permission to travel and challenge Gyms.
  * Lavender—Researcher. Given permission by their employer to use funds to travel and perform tasks.
  * Green—Breeder. Permission to own Daycare Centers, train, and raise other's Pokemon as well as their own
  * Orange—Field Trainer. Take on Trainer Classes like Lass and Bug Catcher, limiting themselves to specialization in exchange for a League-issued stipend.
  * Yellow—Caretaker. People who are allowed to own and look after Pokemon, but not battle. Often work at adoption centers.
  * Red—Gym Trainer. Trainers who work under a local Gym Leader as either students or as a job.
  * Pink—Healer. Usually a nurse, doctor, or medical expert assigned to help Trainers in an area.
  * White—Ranger. Work alongside law enforcement to apprehend criminals and patrol areas under suspicion.
  * Bronze—Ace Trainer. Highly-qualified Trainers who can seek employment for the League, considered the cream of the crop.
  * Silver—League Official. Includes Gym Leaders, League officers, Elite Four, etc.
  * Gold—Champion. A Trainer who has their name and Trainer ID code registered in the Hall of Fame.



  
_*Note, this scheme is only specific to Kalos and not standardized._

 

 

 

**III.**

One of the many things that carried over from Kanto was the way in which the League was advertised. This included upbeat commercials, specialized "Trainer gear" that includes clothing, bags, and other such accessories, and Tournaments hosted among Gym towns every so often. Among these advertising techniques were interviews with veterans, who spread myths about something called the "Trainer instinct".  
  
The rumor originally started in regards to Kanto's Legendary Trainers: Red the Battler, Blue the Strategizer, Green the Evolver, and Yellow the Healer. They were often described as "natural Trainer" and prodigies, which was reinforced by the fact that they pulled off amazing feats such as usurping Rocket's grip on Tohjo (the joint name for the sister regions, Kanto and Johto) at the age of thirteen. These statements eventually culminated into the eventual rumor of a so-called "Trainer instinct", which was a defining line between Trainer prodigies and regular Trainers.  
  
There was a study done by an amateur scientist, who noted that Trainer instinct actually consisted of learned behavior, such as knowledge of battle facts and memorization, and even emotional state during the battle can greatly affect the outcome of the battle and the Trainer's skill.  
  
Few "prodigies" still exist, classified by their abnormal ability to grip complex battle strategies despite their young age. One such example is a twelve-year-old girl from Kanto who was awarded the title of Ace Trainer, the youngest ever to earn the title.

 

 

 

**IV.**

The Crimson War, as it is now called, began in the year 2969 ME (Modern Era) and lasted until 2976 ME. The War was rumored to have been started by the Mad King of Kalos, Louis XIII, decided to launch an attack on Kanto in order to bring the Old Continent under the New Continent's rule. Kanto struck back, and Kalos called upon its allies in Unova (and Alola, as it was under Unovan rule at the time) and Hoenn. Kanto's own allies, Johto and Sinnoh, both joined Kanto in war, each eager to claim the non-sovereign stretch of land that Kalos controlled (known today as Sui Iuris, known colloquially as "Leagueless").  
  
The War was never won, not really. Officially, a truce was called after both sides suffered grievous losses. Both sides bled each other out, and the damage became so great that it was called off immediately. In the aftermath, the monarchies, aristocracies, and oligarchies that the regions were ruled by at the time were abolished, citizens furious at their bloodthirsty, power-hungry leaders for letting it get this far.  
  
In the final year of the War, as peace-talks were underway, the International Police was founded by Sinnoh in order to monitor the regions' newly-emerging, fledgling government systems so that nothing of this magnitude would ever happen again. The IP was given Sui Iuris to set up their main base of operations, but they have some presence in every League region.  
  
In the same year, the Indigo League was formed in Tohjo as the new form of government. Within the next decade, a League system was founded in every independent region.

 

 

 

**V.**

Moves are represented by units called Aura Points (AP), formerly known as Power Points (PP). They are units of typeless aura that can be converted into moves of any type. Normally, the execution of a single move takes up a single AP, however there is a method known as "condensing", in which Trainers will specifically train their Pokemon to use several AP while executing one move.  
  
In the case of damaging moves, condensing can result in a highly powerful yet highly lethal attack. Because of the sheer unpredictability of these attacks, the condensing of damaging moves is banned from almost all battling platforms. This particularly applies to lower-leveled or unevolved Pokemon, who have smaller aura reserves and are more likely to drain themselves in the process. The condensing of "ultimate moves" like Draco Meteor or Blast Burn can prove fatal even to high-leveled, fully evolved Pokemon after a single use.  
  
However, the condensing of status moves with a high number of AP, such as Sand-Attack or Leer, is often used in unsanctioned battles to give Trainers an edge over each other. This sort of condensing is popular among rookie or low-leveled Field Trainers, but is rarely used by League Trainers. While not necessarily  _illegal_ , it is also frowned upon to condense in League-sanctioned battles. In Kanto, condensing in general is considered underhanded and dishonorable and is banned from all battling.  
  
Condensing is a popular method of opening a battle among Berserkers, who thrive off the psychological shock that comes from it. It is rare for Berserkers to follow up on it, though. Poke Balls are equipped with an AP counting system to track condensing, particularly the condensing of damaging moves.  
  
It should be noted that condensing is an invention of human training and it is rare for wild Pokemon to be aware of this skill, much less properly execute it.

 

 

 

**VI.**

Timeline:  
ME = Modern Era  
AoM/AE = “Age of Myth”/Ancient Era  
  
  
**10 AE** —King Azoth takes the throne  
**3 AE** —the Great Kalosian War reaches its peak; the Slaughter of the Fae  
**2 AE** —construction of the mythical Azoth Flower begins  
**1 AE** —The Blooming; Kalosian monarchy falls out of power in favor an aristocracy  
**5 ME** —the earliest records of Transcendence  
**10 ME** —the earliest records of Pokémon understanding human language, as recounted by a Kalosian priest  
**15 ME** —Transcendence is outlawed  
**20 ME** —the earliest records of Aesith, called “gardiens” by Kalosians  
**26 ME** —the first Unovan Republic is formed  
**772 ME** —the first Kalosian Purge: the aristocracy that succeeded the monarchy is overthrown and democracy rises to power in Kalos  
**1180 ME** —the second Kalosian Purge: democracy falls out of power after several attempts to claim Sui Iuris end in failure and an oligarchy rises to power  
**1621 ME** —the second Kalosian Purge: the oligarchy is overthrown and a monarchy once again takes power  
**2969-2976 ME** —the Crimson War  
**2977 ME** —the League system is born in Tohjo; the International Police is founded in Sinnoh and given Sui Iuris as a base of operations  
**2978 ME** —Sinnoh and Hoenn adopt the League System, but keep it separate from their oligarchic governments  
**2980 ME** —Unova and Kalos adopt the League System, but keep it separate from their democratic governments  
**3019-3020 ME** —the Rocket Takeover of Tohjo  
**3020-3021 ME** —the Weather Phenomenon of Hoenn  
**3022-3023 ME** —the Galactic Incident of Sinnoh  
**—3022 ME** —Calem Lafayette is born in Snowbelle City  
**—3022 ME** —Celestine Lavieaux is born in Viridian City  
**—3023 ME** —Trevor DuPont is born in Lumiose City  
**—3023 ME** —"Tierno" Le Blanc is born in Aquacorde Town  
**3023-3025 ME** —the Rocket Resurgence of Johto  
**—3023 ME** —Shauna Gabena is born in Slateport City  
**—3023 ME** —Serena Devereux is born in Snowbelle City  
**3039 ME** —Unova’s unexplained “lockdown”  
**3040 ME** —present

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More worldbuilding.


	11. Extra 3: Forger des Liens

**Extra—Forger des Liens**  
(noun)

  * French for “forging links”



 

It was summer.  
  
Blue sky, shining sun, a nice afternoon in early June. Shauna was sitting at the lunch table with your friends. Summer school—it was become a tradition of theirs as of last year, back when they’d first started high school. Tierno was taking a condensed biology course after flunking chemistry, on account of needing a science credit and thinking the experiments would be fun, only to sorely underestimate the amount of math and calculations required. Trevor had warned him, but Tierno hadn’t listened, and Shauna and Calem had both teased him lightly when the school year ended. Trevor, meanwhile, was knocking out his art requirement by signing up for a photography course. His reasoning was that it was the least objectionable option and, because handling the dark rooms required a certain amount of caution, there was likely to a smaller number of idiots in that course. Basically, his plan was to take all his required courses early and then coast on electives for senior year, which, in Shauna’s opinion, was kind of a smart move, but it only worked because Trevor had little to no involvement in extra curricular activities and was a grade A nerd in the studying department. Unlike her, who had her thumbs in the school paper, the cheer squad, and the party planning committee and she had the studying habits of a Pachirisu on caffeine.  
  
Oh, and Calem was taking extra battle courses. Probably as preparation for the upcoming Journey, but Shauna still find it odd how insistent and adamant he was about them, training almost religiously every night. She’d know—she lived across the street from him and she could hear the sound of fire and water clashing, from where Alistair fired a Flamethrower to meet Hayami’s Bubblebeam. The hiss of it sometimes kept her awake at night, but she could always drown it out with some Katy Perry blasting through her headphones.  
  
Shauna? She wasn’t taking any courses, not this year. She had in the past, but not this year. Mostly, she was here because she wanted to spend some time with her friends. She may be the sole girl in a group of guys—the only reason she joined the cheerleading squad was to make a bunch of girl friends in order to maintain herr femininity—and their overwhelming, testosterone-induced stupidity could drive her absolutely nuts sometimes, but they were her best friends in the world and it was only a matter of time before they all graduated and parted ways.  
  
Not all of them were attending, but they all gathered there regardless, out of friendship and camaraderie and tradition. Back before they were labelled the quote unquote “Queer Crew” in middle school, and became one of their school’s consistent topic of gossip—especially since Calem alone was practically a school celebrity, not that he’d ever admit it.  
  
But today, Shauna huffed and pouted and swung her leg out restlessly underneath her as it dangled from the bench.  
  
Because Calem was late.  
  
He’d been getting more obsessive about his classes—showing up late because he’d been challenging the other students to casual battles. He always came back flushed and panting, mumbling apologies, and then he sat down and Shauna let it slide, because she knew he’d been fighting with his dad recently—he won’t say what about, but given his family history, she heavily suspected that it was involved with his sudden decision to become a Trainer—and they would all chat with each other like nothing had ever happened.  
  
It had been happening so often that it was practically a tradition now, this aberration from tradition.  
  
“He’ll be here,” Tierno said in an attempt to comfort her. He really did have a way with platitudes, she thought with a sigh. “He’s just running late.”  
  
Shauna knew he was. Calem always lost track of time when he got super invested in something. Normally, she could let it roll off her back, because that was just how he was. But today, she had news, and she was bursting at the seams, waiting to let if fly. She could admit to herself and everyone else that she’d never been good at keeping secrets.  
  
Trevor tapped her insistently on the shoulder, jolting her from her thoughts. “He’s here,” Trevor said, and from the sound of his voice, he was even less pleased than she was.  
  
Calem jogged over soon after, looking sheepish and a little out of breath. “Oh déesse, je suis tellement désolée je suis en retard, j'ai perdu la trace du temps—”  
  
“Whoa, Cal.” Shauna held her hands up urgently. “I don’t speak Kalosian.”  
  
Calem winced, apologetic. “Right. Je suis désolé.”  
  
“Again—”  
  
“Screw it, I’m sitting down,” Calem interrupted, a little sharply. He’d evidently gotten tired of apologizing—and that was another thing that had changed. Cal had always had a temper, but his fuse had been getting shorter lately...  
  
Well, with that out of the way, thus began to ritual of small talk.  
  
“So,” Tierno began. “Does anybody have any news—”  
  
“Me!” Shauna shouted, leaping out of her seat. “Me, me,  _me_!”  
  
“Yes, Shauna?” Trevor asked dryly, in a way that reminded Shauna of her pinch-faced kindergarten teacher Mrs. Zarbs. God, she’d  _hated_  that woman, and she’d hated Shauna in turn.  
  
Shauna sat back down, buzzing with anticipation from head to toe. “Okay, so my Mom talked to the Professor, recently, and you’ll  _never guess_ —”  
  
“Does this have anything to do with the chick that’s been staying with him?” Calem interrupted.  
  
Shauna’s jaw  _dropped_  and she was stuck dumb for a second, mind going blank—and when it restarted, she was three parts shocked and one part upset. “What the  _hell_ , Cal? How did you even know?”  
  
Calem arched a brow, looking blatantly unapologetic, like,  _what did you expect?_. “Rena works with Sycomore, remember?”  
  
“Oh.” Right, yes, that made sense. Calem was really close to his cousin—they grew up together before he’d moved, and they still talked regularly over video chat—and it made sense that Serie would pass news along. “Yeah, um. It kinda. Involves that.”  
  
Trevor and Tierno exchanged a look before turning back to Shauna and Calem. “You guys wanna catch us up?” Trevor asked.  
  
“The Professor has a family friend staying over,” she explained. “Or, he’s the family friend? She’s family of one of his friends, I think. Anyway, she’s our age—and I guess Serie mentioned it to Cal already. But anyway. I guess the lab’s a little too crowded, y’know, with all the aides and the subjects and stuff, so... she’s kinda...  _gonnabestayingatmyplace—_ ”  
  
“What!?” Trevor interrupted.  
  
Shauna pressed her hands together in what, in Hoenn, was considered an apologetic gesture, but more closely resembled praying to the Kalosian eye. “It wasn’t my idea. The Professor asked my Mom and she said yes, I figure we should just make the best of it, y’know?”  
  
“How long do you think she’ll be staying for?” Tierno asked her. She knew that he usually wasn’t off put by new people, but this friend of the Professor’s kinda messed up their plans for setting out on their Journeys after summer school ended.  
  
“...’bout a week,” she answered cautiously.  
  
“Oh,” Tierno said, and Calem and Trevor exchange a look of mutual relief. That was about the same time they were setting out.   
  
Problem solved.  
  
...problem not solved.  
  
Shauna bit her lip. “And... she might be... kinda... coming with us...”  
  
Trevor and Calem leaped from their seats in stunning unison. “What!?”  
  
She winced, but she’d expected this. “She’s a Trainer, apparently, and she’s starting a Journey, here, I guess. Like... around the same time we are...”  
  
“Are you kidding?” Trevor asked. He and Calem sunk back down into their seats.  
  
Shauna winced at his tone, but she understood. This was supposed to just be the four of them, but four wasn’t four when you add an extra person. “Look, guys, I know it’s a bit of an imposition, but we can still make the best of it! I mean, the Professor says she’s a vet, and she has a few years of experience under her belt. So, we can come to her if we ever have any questions.”  
  
“If I wanted advise, I’d ask Père,” Calem drawled. “And at this point, he’s practically shoving it down my throat.”  
  
Shauna arched a brow, but decided not to comment. That could wait. “Aren’t you always saying you want a decent rival?”  
  
Which, frankly, wasn’t a commentary on her, Trevs, and Tierno. Cal was just inherently better at battling than the three of them. It was probably because he’d gotten basic lessons from his dad at a young age, and he and Serie used to compete when they were younger before Cal moved and Serie decided to become a researcher.  
  
It still smarted a little, though—not that Shauna minded.  
  
Calem snorted and looked irritated.  
  
“She’s from Kanto,” Shauna singsonged, trying to make this foreigner sound more enticing as a rival and potential friend. After all, everyone knew that Kanto was the Trainer capital of the world.  
  
“It’s not like we can change the fact that she’s coming,” Tierno interrupted. “The only thing we can change is our attitudes.”  
  
“Oh my  _god_ ,” Trevs muttered, rolling his eyes. “You are  _such_  a dork.”  
  
“And you’re a nerd,” Calem quipped, coming to Tierno’s defense so automatically that it was practically second nature.  
  
Trevor wheeled around to glare at him. “Shut up! You’re freakishly tall.”  
  
“Six feet is not freakishly tall.”  
  
“You’re a freaking giant.”  
  
“And you’re a midget.”  
  
“Fuck you.”  
  
“You first.”  
  
Shauna exchanged a look with Tierno and they both sighed. Something could be said about friends who could argue without really arguing, laugh and insult each other and yet know there was no spite to it. But Tierno and her were much more content with amicability.  
  
“Boys,” Tierno interrupted, amused. “ _Please_. Save it for your wedding day.”  
  
They rounded on him immediately with a simultaneous “fuck you”. She stifled a snort.  
  
A thought suddenly hit her and she leaned in a little. “Hey, Calem?”  
  
“What?”  
  
“If she’s pretty—this friend of the Professor’s—you want me to set you guys up?”  
  
Calem stared at Shauna with so much incredulous she had to wonder if he’d been blessed by the god of skepticism. He slow blinked. “Come again?”  
  
“Set you up,” Shauna repeated slowly. “Like, on a date. With sunsets and a romcom and stuff.”  
  
Calem blinked again.  
  
She leaned back and placed her hands flat on the tabletop. “What part is tripping you up, Cal?”  
  
That snapped him out of his stupor. He frowned. “Shauna, I’m not interested in dating anyone right now.”  
  
“Aw, c’mon.”  
  
“No.”  
  
“C’mon, Calem,” she pressed. “I wanna see you happy!”  
  
“I’m fine,” Calem answered.  
  
“Oh please,” Tierno interjected with an eyeroll. “You swore off dating because of that nasty break-up with—”  
  
“ _Don’t_ ,” Calem growled, and no one said anything after that.  
  
Shauna sighed. Last summer had seen them all in Lumiose, trying their hand at independence while support Serie in her internship with the Professor, still new then and unpaid and not yet promoted to an official aide. Trevor aside, with his adamancy to remain celibate, they all dabbled a little with romance. Tierno had casually dated at least twice before the season was out and autumn rolled around, and Shauna had found a dreamy agender painter named Avery with a Sinnohan accent that had made her  _melt_. They’d whispered sweet nothings to her, called her their muse, and she remembered skipping work at the smoothie joint she’d been working at so often that Trevor—her fellow employee—had threatened to report her, friends or no. But eventually that had petered out too, leaving her wistful and fond and a little nostalgic, they way you feel when you think about summer fading into autumn.  
  
It had been different for Calem, though. What had begun as a summer romance lasted when autumn came, turned long-distance in nature and for the most part remained stable—until abruptly breaking off when he’d gone to Lumiose for a visit during winter break, returning single and with a determination to stay that way for the near future.  
  
Shauna didn’t know what happened between them, and if she hadn’t known any better, she’d have thought that his sudden change in attitude and newly developed assholery had been a result of the breakup. But Shauna did know better because that wasn’t it. His shift in demeanor had long predated the breakup, and the relationship termination had only served to exacerbate Calem’s already foul mood.  
  
Honestly, Shauna just wanted to see him happy. To see him smile a little more often and little more easily, like he used to before he started pulling away and acting strangely. She wanted him to stop being so moody and withdrawn—and maybe cut his hair, because his bangs fell over his eye in a way that looked oddly emo.  
  
She’d never say that, of course. He’d just deny it and shut down, like always did when he was pressed about a subject he didn’t want to talk about.

* * *

About a week later, a sleek black car had shown up on Shauna’s curb. She and Calem had been walking home—again, they lived nearby, so walking home together was rather standard, in a non-romantic, platonic-boy-girl-friend sort of way—and he was the one who pointed it out. Especially since Shauna’s dad was there, talking with a lanky blonde man that looked vaguely familiar...  
  
“Hey, isn’t that Dexio?” Calem asked, stopping suddenly.  
  
Shauna stopped too and took a closer look, squinting a little—and yeah, maybe? Dexio was the Professor’s senior assistant and s PokéDex beta tester, and Serie had worked under him directly while she was just a nameless intern. Shauna had seen him maybe once when she’d first moved and she’d learned that her dad was an old student of the Professor’s, so the man had felt obligated to help her family settle into Vaniville. She remembered Dexio had been there too, had even brought Mint along and that was how Shauna had first bonded with the Chespin. He’d been younger then, though, about the same age as she was now. She hadn’t seen him in years, but Calem probably had. He and Trevor had both visited the labs on more than one occasion during last summer.  
  
Another figure emerged from the car, this one with long, thick ebony hair that was either distinctly feminine or a dude in desperate need of a haircut.  
  
“Oh!” Something clicked in Shauna’s brain and an excited grin split her face as she turned to Calem. “That’s probably my houseguest!”  
  
Calem frowned. “Ah.”  
  
She huffed and looped her arm around his. “Oh don’t be like that. C’mon, let’s go over and introduce ourselves!”  
  
But he untangled his arm from her and fixed her with a bored expression. “Yeah, no, I’m gonna head home. Evalynn’s probably getting lonely.”  
  
“So?” Shauna never really understood the relationship between Calem and his stepmom. Maybe Calem didn’t either. He never called her “mom” for one thing, but in his mind, that space was probably filled permanently, so.  
  
“So when she gets lonely and there’s nothing left to clean, she’ll go through photo albums.” Calem shuddered a little. “I can’t have her looking at my baby pictures—not after last time.”  
  
“You mean where she accidentally took a selfie with the book in the photo?” She grinned while he grimaced. “Great Golems, that was hilarious.”  
  
“For  _you_ , maybe,” he grumbled. “So I’m going to head back before I have to risk reliving that humiliation.”  
  
“Okay,” she relented. “Bye!”  
  
He offered her a quick wave before heading off.  
  
She sighed and hiked her bag up a little higher on her shoulder, made her way home and tried to pretend she didn’t feel a little lonely.  
  
As it turned out, she’d arrived at the perfect time, according to her dad. He reintroduced her to Dexio—and yeah, she’d been right, it was him, point Shauna—and Dexio introduced Shauna to her temporary houseguest, a one Celestine Lavieaux.  
  
The first thing Shauna noticed about Celestine was that she was tall. Like, six feet tall and taller thanks to those heels. Why was she wearing heels, anyway? Did she just like towering over people or what? Shauna had to tilt her head up to look at the newcomer, but she grew up around Calem and he was practically the same height as Celestine, not mention that Tierno was pretty close to Calem in terms of height, so looking up at people was nothing new.  
  
The second thing Shauna noticed was that Celestine was pretty. Like, in a fashion magazine model sort of way, with curves in all the right places and an unsmiling mouth with deep, seductively blue eyes. She seemed to know it, too, because she wore jeans and a shirt with a neckline that dipped a little too low, but honestly, she was beautiful enough to have any guy (or girl? maybe?) without revealing to much skin. Her face alone would make anyone drool, beautiful in a traditional way, face set with high cheekbone and porcelain angles, and lots of long, thick black hair that really didn’t look too Kantonian, honestly. In fact, the structure of Celestine’s face was more New Continental in nature, something that even the oval shape of her eyes betrayed. Other than the dark hair, there really wasn’t much oriental about Celestine at all. Which made Shauna wonder because, well, she was supposed to be Kantonian, right?  
  
Lastly, it was her demeanor that Shauna noticed. While her dad and Dexio talked briefly—Dexio informing him that one of the Professor’s assistants would be arriving in a week after Celestine’s licensing situation was sorted and Shauna thought,  _He must mean Serie_ —Celestine made no attempt to engage. Not with Shauna, not with her dad, not with Dexio. She’d simply given her hosts a once over before letting her gaze wander around the space, her arms crossed over her chest like a set of chains over a locked treasure box with no key. She was so rigid, so distant and taciturn, her hair cascading down behind her, a curtain meant to conceal. The air around her made Shauna unsteady and strangely sad, for reasons she couldn’t even begin to explain—she wanted to, though. Wanted to be able to explain and know and make the oddly morose air around the foreign girl dissipate.  
  
“Hi,” Shauna said in an attempt to start a conversation.  
  
Celestine started a little, as if she’d forgotten Shauna was there. “Oh. Uh. Hi.”  
  
Oh, so  _that_  was where the Kantonian aspect came in. There was an inflection in her voice, a cadence that was distinctly foreign. Old Continental in nature.  
  
Shauna smiled a little, trying to appear friendly and welcoming and everything sad people needed. “I’m Shauna—Shauna Gabena.”  
  
“Lavieaux Celestine,” the other girl said stiffly. The ‘l’s sounded like ‘r’s, and her ‘s’s curled elegantly. Very lovely sounding.  
  
“Nice to meet you.” Shauna tilted her head to the side, curiously. “Can I ask a question?”  
  
Celestine hummed but didn’t say “no”.  
  
“I heard you were Kantonian, but your name sounds Kalosian. How come?”  
  
“My mother was from Kalos,” Celestine said flatly. “She gave me a name that matched her origins.”  
  
“Oh. I guess that makes sense.”  
  
Celestine grunted.  
  
Shauna shifted a little, because she didn’t know what else to say. There was an air around this foreign girl that stifled conversation, that made you want to pull away and go warm your hands over a furnace, because  _yeesh_ , chilly as hell.  
  
That didn’t mean Shauna was going to stop trying, though. Ask anyone—she was persistent as hell.  
  
“So, uh...” Shauna trailed off into a pensive hum. “Want to see your room?”  
  
It piqued Celestine’s interest, at the very least—if a slow blink and an actual acknowledgement of Shauna’s existence could be counted as “interest”. “Yeah. Yeah, okay. Sure.”  
  
Shauna’s dad had just finished his sentence, asking how the Professor has been doing and how the research is going and, oh, how is young miss Serena doing?—when Shauna tapped him lightly on the arm.  
  
“Hey dad? I’m gonna go show Celie her room, okay?”  
  
Shauna’s dad smiled at her, white teeth against tanned skin. “Of course, darling. Sounds like a great idea.”  
  
But Celestine blinked dumbly. “Celie?”  
  
“Yeah.” Shauna giggled a little at the other girl’s blank expression. “It’s your nickname.”  
  
“My... what?”  
  
Shauna smothered a smile and started up the stairs. “C’mon, silly. Your room’s a-waitin’.”  
  
“It’s not like it’s  _going_  anywhere,” Celestine muttered, but followed nonetheless.

* * *

“Here it is!” Shauna announced with enough drama to earn her a commercial of some sort (she  _totally_  nailed it) as she opened the door. It was really just a small room, kinda cramped and mostly an extra space that was once home to all the moving boxes when Shauna’s family had first arrived. For years, those boxes had stayed there, gathering dust, until recently when they’d all been moved to the garage to accommodate their temporary houseguest. “Sorry, it’s kinda small though..."  
  
Celestine poked her head in. “Oh. This is... nice.”  
  
That wasn’t the word Shauna would use, but it was nice that Celestine was trying to be considerate.  
  
Shauna lingered in the doorway like a shadow, waiting for Celestine to step into the room and examine it more thoroughly. When the other girl remained at Shauna’s side, Shauna swung the door a little, trying to get a handle on her nervous energy at having a distant, gorgeous stranger so close.  
  
“Sorry it’s so cramped,” Shauna apologized.  
  
“It’s not so bad,” Celestine answered, and finally peeled off the door jam.  
  
“Yeah, until you get all your luggage in.”  
  
“Oh.” Celestine clasped her hands behind her back, and the view of what she looked like from behind was concealed by her hair. “I don’t... have any.”  
  
Shauna tilted her head in confusion. “Any what?”  
  
“Erm. Luggage.”  
  
Shauna blinked rapidly in amazement. People brought luggage to foreign places, that was just common sense. When you went places, you brought belongings. So this girl—was she saying she didn’t bring her belongings, or that she simple hadn’t any to bring, or both?  
  
Something changed about the air, with Celestine standing in the center of the room and her hands clasped firmly behind her back, form concealed by a shiny black mane. Sunlight filtered in through the windows, tinted and stained by the silky drapes so it was colored green and blue instead of the usual warm yellow, casting tessellations of the curtains’ patterns across the floor. Without the warm inflection in the light and knickknacks to fill up the room, it suddenly seemed skeletal, the faded blankets folded neatly on the old bed shoved in the corner wan and sickly looking, the dresser placed nearby too empty. And now, with this strange, guarded girl in the center, her shoulders tight and the air around her almost dead, Shauna was struck by an overwhelming sense of emptiness, and lack of something too great to name.  
  
Now she knew what it was about Celestine that threw Shauna off so much—she seemed so... lonely.  
  
Shauna was suddenly overwhelmed with the urge to walk over to the other girl and touch her shoulder in a comforting manner, assure her that she doesn’t have to be so alone.  
  
But she restrained herself, because strangers didn’t do that.   
  
At the same time, though, she couldn’t help but wonder, curiously, what was hiding under that sorrowful, solitary exterior with so few words and spacey gazes. It was probably someone who was scared, aching from loneliness, wishing for home—lost in a place that was so new and so different and where she knew nothing and no one.  
  
Shauna kinda knew how that went.  
  
She remembered being eight and sullen, new to a region that was much more formal and noble than free and easy Hoenn. She remembered how it took her about a year to first make a long-time friend, and months more to make two more. And that was okay, because these things took time. People had roots just like plants, but people’s roots took longer to settle and anchor themselves into the ground, create a place where you can thrive instead of just exist.  
  
But for Shauna, there had been no one there to help her acclimate to her new school and expedite the process of making friends, tear down the walls of shyness and loneliness so that you could find within yourself the courage to actually bond with other people. That was not the case this time, though.  
  
Not this time.  
  
“Hey.” At the sound of Shauna’s voice, Celestine started a little and glanced over her shoulder, blue eyes inquisitive. “You wanna meet Johnny?”  
  
“Johnny?” Celestine repeated, turning fully to face Shauna. She unclasped her hands, letting them fall to their side.  
  
“Mom’s Rhyhorn,” Shauna explained. “He’s in a paddock in the backyard. Wanna see him?”  
  
Celestine looked thoughtful for a few moments, idly admitting, “Well, I’ve never seen a racing Rhyhorn before...”  
  
Shauna grinned brightly. “Great!” She grabbed Celestine by the wrist. “C’mon. I’ve even got some oats you can feed him!”  
  
And then she was dragging Celestine down the stairs and out the door and into the sun.

* * *

Five days had passed since Celestine had arrived and she hadn’t left the house—and Shauna was beginning to worry.  
  
In addition to Celestine’s seemingly chronic nightmares, the foreigner was extremely antisocial. Shauna had tried to push and prod, be as sunny and nice as Tierno had been when Shauna was gloomy and feeling aimless without the roots of her hometown—but Celestine always shrank away. It seemed like she was the opposite of Shauna’s eight-year-old self, shying away from human contact like it was a deadly disease and Shauna was carrier. She seemed to find the idea of interacting with anyone to be an unnecessary component in the human experience and cutting it out of her life would ultimately enhance said human experience. Or maybe Celestine was just unable to properly navigate social situations—that seemed more likely—and just didn’t want to bother with it.  
  
Well, screw that.  
  
Shauna knew Celestine would really enjoy Vaniville, so long as the foreigner gave it a chance as Shauna had nine years ago. Each day, she made an attempt to drag Celestine out from the sanctuary of her room. So far, Shauna had yet to be successful in getting Celestine to leave the neighborhood.  
  
Today, she was trying a different approach.  
  
Shauna threw the door open, and it banged so hard against the wall she was legitimately surprised it didn't leave a crack in the wall. “If you come with me right now to Aquacorde High, I promise I’ll convince Mom and Dad to get some Kantonian food for dinner tonight.”  
  
Celestine—who had up until then been lying on the bed with the curtains drawn, creating deep pools of shadows despite the fact that it was almost noon, and staring listlessly at the wall—glanced up sharply at Shauna’s sudden appearance. “...should I ask?”  
  
“I want you to meet my friends,” Shauna explained. While the idea of setting Celestine and Calem up had vanished the moment she’d seen how absolutely frigid this other girl was (didn’t stop Cal from avoiding her house like the plague, though, in case she might still be entertaining the notion), but that didn’t mean she still didn’t want them to meet.  
  
Celestine rolled her eyes and let her head fall against the pillow again.  
  
“C’mon, Celie,” Shauna begged, knowing full well that Celestine was not fond of the nickname but using it anyway. “I know you’ve been craving some Kantonian food. You’ve complained enough.”  
  
Celestine grunted.  
  
“You know how persuasive I can be.” Shauna arched a brow. “You scratch my back, I scratch yours.”  
  
“What is your obsession with getting me to meet people,” Celestine muttered. It was probably meant as a question, but it sounded less like one.  
  
Shauna thought about that for a moment. “I think it would be good for you.”  
  
The eye roll Celestine made was loud enough to fill the room.  
  
“Five minutes, tops,” Shauna pleaded.  
  
Well, no one could deny how insistent Shauna could be, and Celestine seemed to realize that, because she sat up slowly with colossal sigh. “Fine. But you’d better make good on that promise. I’ve been craving teriyaki chicken for ages.”  
  
Shauna grinned. She knew she might be pushing a little, but honestly, it was for good reason. Being around people who were genuinely nice and caring and comforting was one of the quickest and easiest ways to establish connection, and that was the best way to make loneliness abate. And Celestine might not realize it, but Shauna was helping, in the best way she knew how. And she wanted to help because she understood, to some extent. There had been a time when, in the depths of loneliness and its throes of depression, that she had convinced herself she was fine with being alone.  
  
But no one was fine with being alone and Shauna knew that. So she would get Celestine to meet her friend, because it was a good thing, and she was certain, at the time, that nothing could go wrong.  
  
Her heart had been in the right place, at least.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More teenage drama.
> 
> Celestine is kinda nasty to Shauna in the beginning, and while she is warming up to Shauna, I just wanted to explain why Shauna keeps being nice to Celestine despite her dismissive attitude. I dunno. I felt like writing something with Shauna. I’m really starting to like her character, honestly.
> 
> And I absolutely adore Calem and Trevor’s dynamic—they kinda bag on each other but in a loving sort of way, all friendly teasing a stuff. Most of it involved height and grades, though, because Calem is way taller than Trevor and Cal used to have Trevor tutor him when they were kids. They’re both kinda competitive and I love them to death.
> 
> Super excited for Ultra Sun and Ultra Moon, btw, and I’m definitely purchasing UM (is that okay to use???) and there’s a high chance I’m going to Nuzlocke it.
> 
> Calem’s French bit:  
> “Oh déesse, je suis tellement désolée je suis en retard, j'ai perdu la trace du temps”, directly translates to “Oh goddess, I'm so sorry I'm late, I lost track of time”, a la Google Translate.
> 
> Really not much else to say here, so, until next time  
> Luna out


	12. DOCUMENT 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: CLASSIFIED INFORMATION  
>  ANYONE CAUGHT READING THIS FILE WITHOUT THE PROPER AUTHORIZATION WILL BE LEVELED WITH ESPIONAGE CHARGES AND PUNISHED ACCORDINGLY.

** INTERNATIONAL POLICE  
** **AUTHORIZATION: TEAM MYSTIC AGENT, LEVEL 10+**

 

 

 **  
  
DEMIHUMAN CLASSIFICATION FILE  
DOCUMENT #********  
  
  
  
**Fae Class:  
**  
**AESITH**  
      Characterized by extreme healing factor and their longevity. Able to utilize Transcendence without serious consequence. A set number at any given time.  
NOTE:  
      Current number:  ~~20~~  21  
  
**PIERCER**  
      Characterized by their immunity to all forms of visual deception, most notably the Veil. Able to utilize Transcendence but suffer effects from long-term usage.  
  
**IMMORTAL**  
      Characterized by their great longevity and lack of aging. Able to utilize Transcendence with less difficulty than mortals and are less prone to effects of long-term usage.  
NOTE:  
      Often live in isolated settlements away from society. These clans each have their own unique name, i.e. the Shinobi of Kanto and the Tuatha De of Kalos.  
  
**LIMINAL**  
      Characterized by having a slightly stronger than normal Aura. Often are descended from an Aesith or Piercer. Some believe they carry the gene. Are virtually undetectable.  
  
  
  
**Psychic Class:  
**  
**TELEPATH**  
      Characterized by the ability to project thoughts and communicate telepathically. Most have a range of a twenty-foot radius. Rare cases document a type of astral projection, in which the consciousness is temporarily projected outside the body.  
  
**EMPATH**  
      Subcategory of Telepaths. Can sense emotions and can slightly manipulate emotions. Rare cases document the ability to visually detect Auras.  
  
**TELEKINETIC**  
      Characterized by the ability to project pressure and force using willpower. Excited by strong emotions, power reserves are small when compared to Pokémon and tire quickly after great exertion.  
  
**SYBIL**  
Characterized by the receiving of visions, either premonition or historic in nature. Seer is the classification used for those with premonitions, and Historian used for those who glimpse the past.  
  
**ONEIROS**  
      Characterized by the ability to manipulate Dreamspace to the point where they can even enter others’ dreams. Rare cases document receiving prophetic visions during REM sleep.  
  
**MEDIUM**  
      Characterized by their heightened sensitivity to the Aura released by deceased. Some cases report possession, communication, and even casual ventures to the Afterworld. All cases have been victims of near-death experiences.  
  
  
  
**Miscellaneous class:  
**  
**IMMUNE**  
      Characterized by immunity to Psychic infiltration, through conscious mind, dreams, or otherwise. Impossible to detect.  
  
**ASCLEPIUS**  
      Characterized by the ability to heal minor wounds and injuries, and, in some cases, alleviate disease symptoms to some extent. Investigation leads to the belief that they are somehow connected to the Old Forests.  
NOTE:  
      Most famous case:  
      - Yellow the Healer, Legendary Trainer of Tohjo  
  
**FALLER**  
      Recent addition. Characterized by memory impairment and a strong Aura similar to that of an Ultra Wormhole. Theorized to have passed through the Wormhole and lost their memories in the process.  
NOTE:  
      Exposure to and passing through the Wormhole are two separate matters. The classification only applies to those who have passed through a Wormhole and suffered memory loss in some way. Exposure to Wormhole radiation does not a Faller make.

  
  
—Written by Team Mystic Agent ~~000~~


	13. Chapter 5: Peste (Part 1)

**Chapter 5—Peste**  
(noun)

  * French for “plague”, “scourge”, or “pestilence”



 

 

“ _Someone told me **love would all save us**  
But,  **how can that be** , look what love gave us  
A  **world full of killing**  and  **blood spilling**  
That world  **never came**_ ”  
—“Hero”, Chad Kroeger ft. Josey Scott

  
  
  
Thanks to Ray’s guidance, they managed to find their way back to the path without running into any more Beedrill. It took a grand total of a day and a half, during which Shauna kept insisting on making small-talk, and Celestine tried to keep chitchat to a minimum. If Shauna was upset by Celestine suddenly giving her the cold shoulder, she didn’t show it—in fact, it might have even caused her to redouble her efforts.  
  
There was an immense rush of relief that went through Celestine when they stumbled across the path again, because as there were too many things moving around in the shadow of these woods. She kept thinking she’d see a shadow of Roi’s silhouette between the trees, his infuriatingly cryptic words and the way he acted as if he knew—as if he could see her and see through her and see ahead of her, into her future—all at once—  
  
Ugh, forget it. She had enough to worry about. To busy her otherwise anxious mind, she trained her team up and creamed the stationed Field Trainers. Shauna allowed Celestine to “do the honors”, as she put it, because Celestine looked like she “really needed to blow off steam”. Celestine resented her a little for that.  
  
Regardless, the Field Trainer turned out to be surprisingly easy to beat, with Delphi’s superior level of combat knowledge combined with Celestine’s years of experience dealing with newbie Trainers making them an almost unbeatable combo. Celestine suspected that it might also be he was trying to impress her, but she pretended to ignore it, the words  _don’t get attached_  ringing through her head. Ray was still weakened from the Poisoning, but Max assisted him in battles against the bolder wild ‘mons. Tanner departed once they found the path again, which, after bearing his insufferable chatter over the last day or so, Celestine was extremely grateful for. It seemed the Pidgey still couldn’t tolerate Bugs, and she was fine with that—until after he’d left and she realized she’d never asked him where he learned to condense, a technique that was born of human ingenuity.  
  
Regardless, it was nice for a while.  
  
But then “a while” started to stretch and extend, encroaching dangerously on the territory of “forever” and “an eternity”. They trekked through the Forest for another three days, and that was even on the path. By the fifth day of waking up to a viridescent canopy, Celestine was beginning to feel sick of the color green—and considering that she had grown up in the famous “Evergreen City”, that in itself was an amazing feat. Shauna kept trying to be bubbly and upbeat, but that was starting to grind on Celestine’s nerves too, and she quite bluntly told the Hoennian to, quote, “stop saying stupid stuff” to her, unquote. In a rare show of defiance, Shauna chose to voice such optimistic platitudes out loud, as if either addressing the entire group or speaking only to herself, rather than speak to Celestine directly, and it really pissed Celestine off in a way that she could strangely admire. At this point, she could safely say that Shauna didn’t take crap from anyone, Celestine included.  
  
The point was, the experience overall was barely tolerable. By the end of that fifth day, Celestine was ready to tear her hair out.  
  
So you could imagine how absolutely jubilant she was when, a few hours after waking up on the sixth day, that the trees parted and gave way to sunshine so bright it was almost blinding.

  
She laughed—out loud, boisterous and from some deep place in her gut that ached from disuse. A whoop left her, and she made her way out into the sunshine, grinning. Sacred Bird almighty, she’d nearly forgotten what sunshine was like, after six days in that damnable Forest, golden and white and so, so beautiful. The sky was bright blue like priceless jewel, and there were a few cotton-puff clouds in the sky and it was gorgeous. Celestine’s knees wobbled and she nearly collapsed, because her feet were still bare and they ached from six days straight of walking, and maybe they still had some ways to go before they reached civilization but  _it was a start_  and she was  _so goddamn relieved_.  
  
Shauna watched her reaction with mild amusement. “Happy there, Lavieaux?”  
  
“Screw you,” Celestine gasped. She fell back against the ground with a thump and a colossal sigh of relief, folding her aching legs beneath her. “If I never see another tree again, I’m going to kill someone. Literally. I will strangle them to death and then stab them with my heels.”  
  
“You realize there’s a lot more wilderness in Kalos,” Delphi pointed out with slightly less timidity than usual.  
  
“I fucking hate you all.”  
  
That made Shauna snort and Delphi turn to Mint, who rolled her eyes. Max chirped, happily oblivious, while Ray patted the bird’s head affectionately.  
  
Shauna sat down next to Celestine, setting Mint down. The Chespin scrabbled over to the rest of Celestine’s team, exclaiming that she had invented a new game involving the dandelions and they were all going to play it.  
  
The comment made Celestine take a closer look at the Route. It was sloped, gentle hills and angles, just as flourishing as its sister Route on the other side of the Forest. They were up high, and from Celestikne’s vantage, she could glimpse a few Field Trainers station near a pair of great ivory gates, all of them school-aged and eager. The Route overflowed with great swaths of emerald grasses—but more than that, Celestine realized, patches of bright yellow sliced through green, tall, swaying stems with sunny heads. Further down, she could make out a whole sea of them, blazing yellow, marching up the side of the hill like a steadily advancing army, and she couldn’t help a twinge of amazement. Celestine had seen dandelions, yes, but never so many, not all at once. A few were starting to seed, and she vaguely remembered Midori-Sensei telling her about how it was thing in the islandic region of Hoenn to blow on seeding dandelions—“wishing flowers”, they were called—and make a wish. That had always puzzled her, because how could flowers grant wishes, especially after they had ceased growing and were reaching the end of their lifespan?  
  
She’d asked Sensei that exact question, and the woman had arched a brow with a bemused smile, said that Celestine might be taking the whole thing too seriously.  
  
If Maman were here, she might have said something like how it was because death begets life or something like that.  
  
“So, I’m curious,” Shauna said, interrupting Celestine’s train of thought. She turned to the Hoennian, trying not let her slight twinge of exasperation show. Shauna liked asking personal questions, if the trek through the Forest was any indication. “How does a Trainer from the super eco-friendly Viridian City not become a fan of wilderness? I mean, you’ve literally got an Old Forest right in your backyard.”  
  
“It’s not that I’m not a fan of wilderness,” Celestine responded. “It’s just that I want a shower and a new pair of shoes so I don’t have to walk around barefoot.”  
  
“Didn’t you get used to this on your Journey, though?”  
  
Celestine was about to respond, but then Mint gave a shout and suddenly Delphi was yelping, tumbling down the hill and into the sea of dandelions, a rumpled ball of gold and orange fur vanishing into the swaths of weed blooms. The Trainer stifled a twinge of concern when Mint gave a shout of triumph and dived in after him. Ray sighed silently, patted Max on the head once, and then bounded over to separate the two before the roughhousing got too intense.  
  
“Celie?”  
  
Celestine didn’t take her eyes off the scene—Ray pulling them both out from the flower patch, giving them each a light wack on the head for their recklessness, they could have bruised something, after all—but she heard Shauna. She was just distracted by the sight, so domestic and idyllic, her mind otherwise occupied by remembering, oh, so this is what being a Trainer is like, that she couldn’t think of a response other than, “Never went on one. Wanted to—never got to.”  
  
“What? Why?”  
  
At that, she snapped back to present and turned back to Shauna—only to realize from the Hoennian’s bewildered gaze that it was too late to take back what she’d said. “Oh, uh... Before I got my traveler’s permit, I, um... I had to... leave Viridian.”  
  
Shauna looked even more surprised by this. “How come? Did you move or something?”  
  
A small breeze picked up, coming from the north and cold with the chill of distant mountains that reminded her too strongly of the Silver Mountains in the autumn. Celestine bit her lip and remembered Viridian Forest, the trees enclosing and asphyxiating as she panicked, and blood dripping down her face as she held on tight, and her breath ragged as she breathed out promises they both knew weren’t true—she still had a scar on her left temple, hidden by her bangs.  
  
“...something like that.”  
  
Thankfully, Celestine was saved from having to answer any further questions, the sound of wingbeats reaching her ears from above. Somewhere between annoyed and relieved, she almost glanced up, but then she felt the weight of talons are her head, and she decided that she was definitely more annoyed than relieved.  
  
“Been a while, OC girl,” came Tanner’s voice, that odd mix between chipper and perpetual impatience.  
  
“Don’t call me that,” Celestine deadpanned. She tilted her head to throw him off, but all that she got out of him were a few startled wingbeats and the pressure of his claws digging deeper into her scalp. “Okay, what is it with you and landing on me head?”  
  
“S’cozy. You got a Ball ready or not?”  
  
Celestine sighed. If she regretted her promise earlier—and she had—then she was really regretting it now. Part of her whispered at her to just ditch the chatty bird, but she’d made a promise, and Celestine Lavieaux always kept her promises.  
  
“Okay, okay, give me a sec.”  
  
She turned to her bag and started digging around for Poké Balls. In her peripheral, she thought she caught Tanner’s feathered head bowed, leaning over her as if intrigued by the Trainer gear she kept in her bag.  
  
“Why are they always red and white?” Tanner asked when Celestine had found one and pulled it out, enlarging it.  
  
“It’s iconic,” Celestine answered.  
  
“Okay, but, why?”  
  
Her fingers twitched in annoyance around the Ball in her hand. “Why don’t we take a trip to Johto and you can ask the apricorn people that—they’re the ones who used to paint them that way.”  
  
“Are you serious about that trip to Johto?”  
  
She blinked. “What?”  
  
“Because if so, I’m soooo in.”  
  
“Um, what?” The topic of conversation couldn’t have been changed that quickly.  
  
“I mean, have you seen the shrines? The natural wilderness? And I’ve heard that Ecruteak in particular looks  _gorgeous_  in the fall, like, leaves all ‘ablaze with color’, as my pepe put it. And then they have this tower that’s dedicated to us Birds! Or at least, a bird god or something. But pépé said that if the light hit it  _just_  right, it lit up like this giant spire of pure  _gold_. Called it the most beautiful sight in all of Johto.”  
  
“Oh, that sounds so pretty!” Shauna gushed. “I  _so_  want to visit Johto once I’m done traveling in Kalos.”  
  
“Hold on.” Celestine held up her hands and shooting Shauna a bewildered look. “How the hell did we go from me catching a Pidgey to planning a trip to Johto?”  
  
Delphi padded over, a dandelion tuft stuck behind his left ear. “We’re going to Johto?”  
  
“No!”  
  
“Oooh, didja name ‘im yet?” Mint asked as she ran over to them, Ray loping behind her. She propped her arms up on Celestine’s thigh and peered up with sparkling dark eyes. “‘Cause if you’re stuck, I got a few suggestions.”  
  
“Oh, not necessary,” Tanner answered, “my name has already been decided.”  
  
Celestine arched a brow. She  _had_  decided on a name for him, but she’d yet to inform him of it. What he was talking about was beyond her.  
  
There was the ruffle of feathers, and she imagined Tanner sweeping his wing out in a dramatic flourish. “My name shall be Ace—because I’ll be the ace of your team.”  
  
“No,” Celestine said flatly.  
  
“Buzzkill. Fine, then I’ll be Jet, because—”  
  
“Also no.”  
  
“Then how about—”  
  
“No.”  
  
“You don’t even know what I was gonna say,” the Pidgey protested.  
  
“Didn’t need to. It was probably another three-letter name.”  
  
“Like Ray?” Shauna asked, a hint of something mischievous in her eyes.  
  
“Or Max?” Mint added, picking up on her Trainer’s tone.  
  
Celestine scowled. “I hate you all. I’m never talking to you again.”  
  
Delphi straightened. “But you’re still talking to me, right?”  
  
She exhaled through her nostrils. What a fragile ego. “Yeah. Sure.”  
  
Max chirped.  
  
“So what’s my name gonna be then?” Tanner demanded.  
  
“...I was thinking Tanner,” Celestine answered. Her fingers twitched around the Ball in her hands, growing impatient.  
  
“ _Tanner_?” the Pidgey repeated, sounding somewhere between outraged and offended, and it made Celestine frown, feeling the slightest bit insulted. “Are you fucking  _serious_?”  
  
“What’s wrong with it?” She craned her neck, but all she earned for her efforts was the sound of desperate flapping. Her frown deepened. “And will you get off my head so I can look at you when you’re talking to me?”  
  
Again, the sound of fluttering wings, but this time, the pressured weight of talons left her scalp as well. The Pidgey flew down to land on her thigh, glare irritated, talons digging into the exposed tears in Celestine’s jeans and into her skin. She wondered if he squeezed hard enough if he might break the skin, make her bleed. But the wounds would heal instantly, and Shauna would see, and her cover would be blown.  
  
“A  _color_ ,” the Pidgey snapped. “You decided to name me after a  _color_? ‘Tan’? Because I have tan feathers? That’s  _real_  creative there, girlie. I expected better. I mean, who thinks it’s okay to call someone by a  _color_?”  
  
“Worked for the Legendary Trainers of Kanto,” Celestine drawled. Red the Battler, Blue the Strategizer, Green the Evolver, and Yellow the Healer. Everyone knew them, had heard of them. They were the first Dex Holders, the first of a generation of heroes, children who dared to face villains and come out triumphant. Celestine had been born during that period of tumult, when Rocket had dug its roots so deeply into the League that it toppled, their criminal boss becoming the first to hold the title “Champion” in Tohjo—only to fall to the four young Trainers who dared to defy him. The names, of course, were simple monikers, their noms de guerre. Their true names did not carry into the narrative, because color names were easier to remember, catchier, appealed more. The following generation, those who had either been born during or were too young to remember when Rocket held the Old Continent hostage and witnessed the selfless heroism of four valiant teenagers, had christened themselves with nicknames of their own, colors like their heroes. Celestine herself, twelve and bright-eyed, had gone through a phase in which she introduced herself as “Crimson” instead of her real name. Midori-Sensei had found it amusing, and neither Shigeru-san or Maman neither condoned nor admonished her for it, which in her mind had been a green light.  
  
“The who the what now?”  
  
“Those are the Trainers who fought Rocket around the same time the gang wars in Hoenn were going on, right?” Shauna asked.  
  
Celestine thought about the other stories she’d heard, about the Weather Phenomenon, the Galactic Incident, and the Rocket Revival. About the Trainers who had also risen up in the face of danger, about the ones who had taken it a step further and claimed Championship, tried to pick up the broken pieces of their regions and reconstruct them into something stronger, more stable. About the girl from Johto who was fathered by one of Hoenn’s Gym Leaders and faced warring factions armed with guns and god-subduing power, about the young woman from Celestic Town with one foot in the world of legend and tradition and the other foot in the present, about the teenage boy who had appeared out of nowhere with a mask and an agenda to dismantle the organization that had once toppled Tohjo and again beat them back into the shadows. “...roughly, yeah.”  
  
The Legendary Trainers of Kanto, though, had come first. Hoenn’s had followed, then Sinnoh’s, and finally Johto’s. Everyone knew that.  
  
“I’ve heard so many stories,” Shauna said wistfully, leaning back a bit. Her eyes were misted, pensive, drifting idly to the sky. “They all had these iconic names—Ruby, Sapphire, Emerald—and no one knew their real names. Anonymity and all that. I always thought that was kinda cool. Like, how badass would it be if you only had one name?”  
  
“Pretty cool,” Celestine answered idly. She thought back to when she was child and had tried to get the name “Crimson” printed on her Trainer Card, how Cerise had poked fun at her by remarking that both their names would mean “red”, how Maman had slowly arched a brow with an  _oh, you’re actually serious_  look. How Shigeru-san had sighed and shaken his head and told her that fame wasn’t all it was cracked up to be, and while mimicry was a form of flattery, not everyone would see it that way.  
  
“ _Use your own name_ ,” he’d said, sounding in every way like the father Celestine wished was around more. “ _That way, when you make a name for yourself, people will remember you as you as you and not an LT knockoff._ ”  
  
Celestine turned back to the Pidgey— _Tanner_ —and waved the Ball at him. “I’ve already decided on this, Bird. If you’ve got a problem with it, take it up with the Name Rater.”  
  
And she tapped the Ball on his head before he could protest further.  
  
He struggled, of course. Was quite violent about it, actually. She almost dropped it out of fear that the shaking might dislocate her wrist, but it settled eventually with quick  _ding!_. Celestine keyed in the name and shrank it, clipping it to her belt.  
  
“What’re the Legendary Trainers?” Delphi asked innocently.  
  
Celestine blinked and stared at him, trying not to look horrified. How did he not know?  _Everyone_  knew, that was just a fact of life. Was this how others felt when she asked stupid things about Kalos? “It’s, well, it’s a collective term. For the Trainers that, erm, well—”  
  
“They saved the world,” Shauna interrupted excitedly. “Y’know, from those organized terrorist groups that cropped up, like, almost two decades ago.”  
  
“Right.” But as Celestine looked at Shauna, she realized that Shauna, too, had only ever heard stories about such feats, about children meeting gods and defeating villains and saving the world. Like Celestine, she had no memories of the events, and could only live them through myths and legends and the scraps that were passed down through the grapevine.  
  
_We missed the age of heroes._  
  
Then she thought back to the last time she’d been in the Viridian Forest, thought back to Roi and what he’d said about mankind’s wanton cruelty.  
  
_But not the age of villains._  
  
“I’ve never heard of them,” Delphi said thoughtfully with a subtle head tilt.  
  
“Oh, sweet, sweet Delphi,” Mint cooed, going over to throw an arm around the Fennekin’s shoulders. The look she gave him was cloyingly pitying. “We need ta get y’all educated.”  
  
Celestine sighed. She glanced back over the hills, at the Field Trainers stationed near the gates, likely all ready to challenge her the moment she came within range. It was of no fault of their own, it was simply their job. She knew that, understood it, but that didn’t mean she had to be happy about it.  
  
_So much for having a warm shower anytime soon._  
  
She got to her feet, regarding her starter thoughtfully. “Let’s make a deal, Delphi. You help me beat up some kids for their lunch money, and I tell you a few things about the Legendary Trainers of Kanto and Johto. What do you say?”  
  
Delphi untangled himself from Mint and glanced over at Ray, who had meandered over to Max and was making a few odd gestures that looked vaguely like he was trying to coax the Pidgey chick to perch on his arm. The Fennekin tilted his head to the side, contemplative. “If by ‘lunch money’ you mean winnings, and by ‘kids’ you mean Field Trainers, then I’m in.”  
  
Celestine smiled, and it didn’t feel quite so fake. “Great. Let’s go mug some grade schoolers.”  
  
“In a legal way,” Shauna said, rising to her feet.  
  
“Yeah. Obviously.”

* * *

The Field Trainers fell easily enough to Delphi and Tanner’s combination. They handed out mercy money freely, and Shauna cheered from the sidelines—not that Celestine needed the encouragement. Most of the Field Trainers were grade schoolers with fairly rudimentary knowledge of battles but little real-world experience, as opposed to Celestine and her familiarity with high-intensity battles, and armed themselves with low-leveled Pokémon that Delphi and Tanner could easily dispatch.  
  
Tanner was still sore about his new name, obedient but grudging in comparison to Delphi’s usual eagerness. Celestine was a little surprised by how easily battling came to the Bird—from her understanding, wild Pokémon usually took a while to adjust to human ownership and human battles—and she found herself using him more and more as the amount of battling Delphi had done in the Forest began to catch up with him.  
  
“I’m not tired, Trainer,” the Fennekin tried to protest, but the uneven panting in his breathing betrayed him. He was back on Celestine’s shoulder, Tanner perched on the other and grumbling about how Celestine was prude for not letting the Bird sit on her scalp. Like the fact that his talons dug into her skin wasn’t reason enough, and it must be that she was just generally uptight.  
  
Celestine cast Delphi a sidelong glance. His ears were drooping, the tufts radiating significantly less heat that before. “Yes, you are. You fought all those Field Trainers on your own back in the Forest—you’re probably running low on Aura.”  
  
Delphi sighed and lowered his head sulkily.  
  
“Hey, don’t give me that. All you need is a quick rest at the Center.” When that didn’t pacify him, she rolled her eyes. “Besides, you wouldn’t be able to hear the story of Rocket’s Fall if you were battling.”  
  
That made him perk up a bit. Celestine had found that he drank in the story eagerly, greedily, just like she had as a child. And that was what Delphi was, essentially—a kid. And kids enjoyed stories, especially the romantic ones with heroes slaying dragons and conquering villains, even if they were slightly unrealistic.  
  
“Right! You were at the part where they were sieging Saffron?”  
  
“Yeah.” Celestine recalled Midori-sensei telling her about it, her teacher’s green eyes alight with memorabilia and the thrill of storytelling. “So, they’d just made it past the front gate, and apparently they drugged the guard by putting Sleep Powder in his tea. Green had come up with that, because she was clever and pragmatic, and she knew that they had to even if it made the others uncomfortable. It was such an underhanded tactic, after all. Luckily, Yellow knew a lot about medicine, so she was able to adjust the dosage so it wouldn’t be fatal or have any adverse effects, but still work quickly. They had Red pose as a delivery guy from a restaurant or something that delivers green tea, the old-fashioned brewed kind, in a thermos. Needless to say, the guard was out like a light in under an hour, and after Blue disabled the cameras—he was sort of a nerd with computers, not that his pride would ever let him admit it—the four managed to sneak by without alerting the occupying Rockets. When they made it to the other side, and first laid eyes on the metropolitan that was Saffron”—that was always how Midori-sensei referred to it, as the “metropolitan that was Saffron”, as if to emphasize how much bigger and busier than Viridian or Celadon it was—“and the first thing they noticed was—”  
  
“Why are all the cities in Tohjo named after colors and plants?” Tanner interrupted. Prior to their conversation, he had been alternating between complaining (which Celestine pointedly ignored) and chattering to Max in wild tongue—the younger Pidgey was still perched on Ray’s shoulder, and the Panpour loped after them at a steady, silent pace. Ray was almost eerie in that way, his constant presence married with his uncanny silence.  
  
Celestine shot the Bird a dubious look, a little miffed at the interruption. “What are you talking about?”  
  
“Well, I mean,  _think_  about it. Cianwood, Mahogany, Ecruteak—those are all woods, right? Azalea, Violet, Goldenrod, Saffron—those are plants! And then all the others are, like, colors and stuff.” Tanner leaned in a little, eyes round and dark and slightly wild. “I think, it’s some conspiracy or something. It’s like a coded message. Plants and colors, and they all mean something.”  
  
“Like what?” Delphi asked.  
  
“No clue. But! I’m going to figure it out, or my name isn’t Ace!”  
  
“It  _isn’t_ ,” Celestine muttered with an eye roll. She caught a glimpse of Shauna battling in her peripheral. They’d split up to handle the multitude of Field Trainers on the Route (“Can’t let you have  _all_  the fun,” Shauna had said with a wink) and the Hoennian seemed to be struggling a little, compared to Celestine, who had swept her opponents without much difficulty. Their strategies were too predictable, was all. Too simple, too easily read. She was honestly surprised Shauna was having difficulty.  
  
Delphi’s brow was scrunched thoughtfully. “Wait, then what about Lavender Town?”  
  
Tanner glanced at him, startled. “What?”  
  
“Lavender Town. That place with the cemetery? Lavender’s a color, but it’s also an herb, so, if it’s a coded system, how does that work?”  
  
Tanner sat there, blinking, stunned into silence. For a moment, Celestine almost thought Delphi had broken the Pidgey before she heard him muttering, “By the Alchemists, it just goes deeper, doesn’t it?”  
  
“Oh my  _god_ ,” Celestine said, stopping. She turned to Tanner in exasperation and had half a mind to shove him off. “There is no  _conspiracy_. The towns and cities are just named that way. It’s not a government plot or anything.”  
  
“Who said it was a government plot?” Tanner chirped in alarm, eyes wide.  
  
Delphi squinted at him. “Um... you did?”  
  
“What?  _No_. I just thought that maybe the guys who named the towns were all related or something, y’know? And maybe they were clues to a lost treasure.” Tanner looked away for a moment, stunned, and muttering under his breath, “But a government plot... By the Winged Mirages, I would have never guessed—”  
  
“You wanna know why there’s thematic naming?” Celestine interrupted, a little sick of all the interruptions. She had gotten into storytelling, a bit, and was rather annoyed that she’d been cut off at one of the highlights. They turned to her, but she didn’t wait for a response. “It’s  _religious_. All those colors and plants? They have a symbolism, had a symbolism, back in pre-League Tohjo religion. Take where I come from, Viridian City, for example—green was seen as the color of life and vitality, and the settlement was located right next to an Old Forest. It also represented healing and magic, and there were legends about Viridian Forest somehow blessing people with the ability to heal. So it makes sense they’d give a settlement located next to a magic Forest a name associated with those sorts of blessings. It’s probably similar for a lot of other settlements, too. I mean, take Vermillion—the color of the sunset, representing courage and ferocity in battle. Pewter is located in the mountains and grey represents stability, Cerulean near the sea and blue representing hope, etcetera.”  
  
Tanner paused for a moment. “...what about that one with the dragons?”  
  
Celestine frowned. “Do you mean Blackthorn?”  
  
“Yeah. What’s the symbolism behind  _that_ , huh?”  
  
“Blackthorns are plants,” Celestine said, frowning deeper at the hint of challenge in Tanner’s tone. “They were probably involved in a ritual or something. Incense and purification and appeasing the gods and whatever. I dunno. That’s a Johto thing, and I’m not an expert.”  
  
“Then how do you know so much about  _Viridian_?” Tanner challenged.  
  
“I’m  _from_  there,” she snapped, feeling oddly defensive and persecuted. “Weren’t you listening?”  
  
“...not really, no. Honestly, I forgot what we were talking about.”  
  
This bird was going to end up dead before they got to Santalune, she swore it.  
  
“I hadn’t realized that,” Delphi said aloud, reflective. “I guess it would make sense for people to name places after things that were important to them... Lumiose is named after the Kalosian word for ‘light’ because, according to history, there used to be a huge underground mine of luminous crystal before the vein went dry a couple hundred years ago. And I hear that almost all the settlements in Unova are named after weather or clouds in some way.”  
  
_Did not know that_ , Celestine thought with a loud exhale from her nose.  _Also, don’t care._  “Do you want me to get back to the story, or are we just going to keep debating the terminology of human settlements?”  
  
Delphi perked up excitedly. “Story please.”  
  
“ _Thank_  you,” she said. “Now where was I... Oh, yes, Saffron! They’d just made it through the gate, and the first thing they noticed was the  _Rockets_. There was so  _many_  of them. They  _covered_  the city, swarmed it like an infestation of black suits and bloody Rs. Yellow squeaked and immediately ducked behind Blue. Red grabbed a Ball from his belt and clenched it in his hand like a weapon, just in case, eyes wary. Green fingered at the hunting knife strapped to her belt—only she carried weapons, and the others disliked that about her, but she knew that Pokémon alone were no match for Rocket, otherwise the Gym and its Trainers would have driven Rocket out the moment they stepped foot in Saffron. Then Red un-tensed, lowering his arm slightly, and remarked that none of them were looking in their direction. They hadn’t been noticed yet. A wave of collective relief flooded the group and they inched back, closer to the gate, to avoid being noticed.  
  
“‘Okay,’ Green said, taking charge. This was her city, after all, her home field, and she knew all the streets and buildings like the back of her hand. ‘First, we head to the Fighting Dojo. Get rid of the Rockets occupying it. As much as I hate those meatheads, we need their help if we’re going to throw Rocket out.’  
  
“‘What about Sabrina-san and the Gym Trainers?’ Red asked. ‘You said Sabrina-san sent you to get help, right? Help’s here.’  
  
“But Green shook her head. ‘They still have Sabrina-san’s father captive in Silph Tower. As long as they have a gun pressed to his head, metaphorical or no, she’s not going to attack. Telekinetics can’t stop bullets, especially from up close. Besides—we don’t exactly look like a rescue team. There’s literally four of us, and one of us is, like, under four feet.’  
  
“‘Hey!’ Yellow snapped, a little offended.  
  
“Green shrugged, unapologetic. ‘It’s true.’ She went back to organizing their plan of attack. ‘We’ll likely get the Gym Trainer’s help—Sabrina-san can just say they’ve got rogue and hope Rocket won’t hold it against her—but we still need the Dojo guys—”  
  
“How do you know?” Tanner interrupted,  _again_.  
  
Celestine clenched her hands into fists in an attempt to resist the overwhelming urge to strangle him. “Know  _what_?”  
  
“That it’s not a government conspiracy. Like, maybe the government is acting without the League’s consent or something.”  
  
“That’s impossible,” Celestine responded flatly.  
  
“Oh yeah? How do you know?”  
  
“Because the League  _is_  the government you dodo!”  
  
“I think he means the  _other_  government,” Delphi piped up sheepishly. “Y’know, the one that deals with all the politics and stuff.”  
  
“Again, the League.”  
  
“No, like, the League manages the Gym Circuit, while the other government manages things like the economy and taxes—”  
  
“The League does all that,” Celestine interrupted. “Gyms are military bases and are the city’s main defense system, in addition to being a circuit trial. They have a responsibility to manage nearby towns without Gyms. The police work under them, and Gym Trainers are higher up on the hierarchy. The Elite Four? They work to manage certain places, divide Tohjo up into four sections, one managed by each. The Rangers also keep the peace, help out with emergencies involving vicious wilds, and manage League registration. The League takes care of everything—there’s no other form of government.”  
  
“Really?” Delphi looked surprised. “You don’t have a Prime Minister?”  
  
“No. We have an Arch-Champion, though. He manages most Tohjo’s politics while the League Champion works on issues that pertain exclusively to the Gym Circuit. The Elite Four work on both levels.”  
  
“Huh.” Delphi looked up. “I didn’t realize it worked differently in other places.”  
  
Shauna chose that moment to finish her battle and come bounding over, pigtails bouncing. “Whatcha talkin’ about?”  
  
“Kanto,” Celestine answered offhandedly. The gate was close by, maybe a few yards away. She could make out the city beyond from here, could see the tall buildings and stucco roofs and picturesque aura of it.  
  
“Really?”  
  
Celestine frowned. “Why do you sound so surprised?”  
  
Shauna shrugged. “Well, you don’t really talk about it all that much, y’know? And you always seem to get so sad when you do.”  
  
Celestine paused, brushing her bangs out of her face. “...I miss it.”  
  
Shauna blinked, and opened her mouth to respond, but Max suddenly let out a screech. Before Celestine could respond, or even so much as fully turn around to see what was happening—  
  
Weight slammed into her, knocking off her feet, and the ground was very hard, despite all the grass and flowers that looked like they should soften the fall. Her temple thumped with a vague pain that would probably coalesce into an ugly bruise on her forehead. Over the distant throbbing, she heard Shauna yelp in alarm and Mint asking Delphi if he was alright, him responding that he was fine and it was just a minor bump on the head, and Tanner ranted angrily about the poor manners of people wearing helmets.  
  
Celestine sat up, wiping the taste of dirt out of her mouth (gross, by the way), to find Ray eyeing her with something that vaguely resembled concern and Max letting out worried chirps. She looked up to see Shauna arguing with a girl in skating gear, dark pigtails threaded through her bright yellow helmet.  
  
“What the hell,” Celestine spat, leaping to her feet. She felt a sore spot on the small of her back, likely where someone had jammed their elbow into her. “Did you just fucking run me over?”  
  
The pigtailed girl was shorter than her—much shorter, and much younger, maybe twelve or thirteen—but she regarded Celestine with dismissive grey eyes. “You got a problem with me?”  
  
“You  _ran me over_.”  
  
“Then maybe you shoulda gotten out of the way,” the girl sneered.  
  
“Maybe you should have given her  _warning_ ,” Shauna snapped in a rare moment of anger. Mint glared at the girl from her Trainer’s side, and Delphi padded over to Celestine’s. The Kantonian knelt down to pick him up. Tanner shifted closer to Ray and Max, still grumbling indignantly.  
  
The girl’s eyes flitted to Delphi and hardened. “Oh, boy, you’re one of those  _League_  Trainers, aren’t you?”  
  
Celestine scowled. The way the other girl said  _League Trainers_  was vaguely disgusted, dismissive and disparaging. It left a bad taste in the Kantonian’s mouth. “What about it?”  
  
The girl snorted derisively. “Figures. You guys just think you can throw your weight around and do whatever you want without suffering the consequences, don’t you?”  
  
Celestine blinked. “Are you sure we’re still talking about me? Because I’m not the one who  _fucking ran over a pedestrian_  and has  _yet to apologize_.”  
  
The girl’s eyes narrowed. “I don’t need to apologize to you. You probably think you’re better than me, don’t you?”  
  
“No one’s saying that,” Shauna said angrily. “Where did that even  _come_  from?”  
  
Realization dawned on Celestine, and she looked at girl closer—simple clothing, but durable, fit for travel and training. “...you’re a Field Trainer.”  
  
The girl’s flinty eyes snapped back to Celestine and grew colder. “ _Class_  Trainer. And you just now realized that?  _Wow_ , I’ve never met anyone so dumb.”  
  
Something in Celestine’s chest hardened, and it felt something like the cool fury she’d unleashed on Calem last week, when he’d barged into Shauna’s house with the sole purpose of antagonizing her. “I’ve never seen anyone with your costume, so.”  
  
“ _Costume_?” The girl’s eyes flashed furiously. “This isn’t a costume,  _bitch_. This is  _real athletic gear_. I’m a Roller Skater—the best in town.”  
  
“A what?” Celestine’s temper faltered momentarily, replaced by genuine confusion. She’d never heard of that Trainer Class.  
  
But that only seemed to rile the Roller Skater up more. “So you think you’re that much better than us that you don’t even have to do your research? You got  _some nerve_ —”  
  
“ _Excuse_  me,” Celestine said with frown. “I’m from Kanto. Trainer Classes variate from region to region. It’s not uncommon for some to region-exclusive.”  
  
The girl scoffed. “Don’t give me that.”  
  
Delphi glanced up at Celestine, then back at the girl, puzzled. “You mean... logic?”  
  
The girl’s eyes narrowed. “No one asked you, fleabag.”  
  
Delphi winced, eyes flattening, and a bolt of anger went down Celestine’s spine, making her straighten and her eyes widen,  _how dare she_ —  
  
“Hey!” Shauna intervened again, physically stepping between them. She was taller than the Field Trainer girl, but just barely. “Don’t take it out on Delphi. He didn’t do anything!”  
  
“Excuse you, did anyone  _ask_  your opinion?” the girl spat.  
  
The hardness returned with a vengeance, and Celestine’s eyes narrowed. “I  _don’t_  think I’m better than you.”  
  
The girl snapped her attention back to Celestine. “Yeah,  _right_. You just strut around with your stupid fox because you like fur accessories.”  
  
Delphi flinched harder, and the last of Celestine’s patience, the only thing holding her fury back, vanished. It flooded her from the inside out, head to toe, itched beneath her skin—icy hot—filled up her chest cavity, her lungs, ribcage, heart, throat, made its way up her windpipe and seized her vocal chords for its own. Then it was in her mouth, burning against her tongue and behind her teeth, a sweetly familiar poison, and it gushed forward, words spilling out—“You know what know one asked for? Your  _opinion_. You just barged in here, shouted, and expected us to take you seriously? Fuck off, bitch. Go blow it out your ass.”  
  
The girl’s eyes blazed violently and she glared at Celestine over Shauna’s shoulder. “You blow it out your ass. You think I’m gonna listen to you because you’re a League Trainer? You may think you’re better than me, but you’re really not. I mean, at least I’m wearing shoes and don’t look like I came out of a disaster zone.”  
  
Something in Celestine snapped, and she stepped closer, eyes blazing, poison burning in her mouth and in her throat. “I  _don’t_  think I’m better than you—even if it’s probably true.”  
  
Shauna faltered at this, turning back to Celestine in bewilderment. “Uh, Celie?”  
  
The Roller Skater shoved Shauna aside and the cold fire in Celestine  _raged_. “What was that?!”  
  
All around Celestine, murmurs broke out, and she spied some of the Field Trainers she’d bested earlier approaching them. Whispers, gossip, spilled into the air, thick and pungent, made the atmosphere tighter and tenser, like the coiling muscles of a beast ready to spring.  
  
_“Is that Rinka?” “I think so, yeah.” “She’s not picking on another League Trainer, is she?” “Looks like it.” “For Pete’s sake, she’s gonna lose her Licence.” “Hey, isn’t that the girl who beat us a while ago?” “Yeah, it is.” “She looks really mad.” “Ooh, this is gonna be **good**.”_  
  
It flickered in Celestine’s ears, rushed through her like wind and rain and fueled the storm building inside of her. So she had spectators. Who cared? It changed nothing about what this girl—Rinka, apparently—had said or done up till now.  
  
“It’s through no fault of your own,” the icy rage inside her went on, a hurricane with rain and hail and thunder and wind that tore at the rafters of her mind. Her thoughts screamed and raged that this girl, Rinka, had no right to say such things, attack her starter’s already-fragile ego, shove around whoever she wanted and claim she was victim. And suddenly, Celestine no longer cared about whatever issues or inferiority complex this girl had. She had no right, no reason, and all Celestine didn’t even fight the flood of poison that spilled out, born of rage and disgust. “I mean, League Trainers are free to grind and train to their heart’s content, but Field Trainers like you have level caps. And you can’t even catch the Pokémon you want—the minute you sign that contract, you’ve given up your freedom as a Trainer. You’re bound by the League’s rules, can’t train or catch or even raise your Pokémon freely. Your entire job is to provide a decent challenge for League Trainers, to be fodder for them to beat up and help boost their egos. Hell, if I decided to battle you with a level fifty team, and yours was only at level six or so, you couldn’t do anything about it.  
  
“And you wanna know why you can’t do anything about it? Because you signed a contract, saying you were okay being a League Trainer’s lesser. Sorry if you didn’t read the fine print, but that’s how the system works. League Trainers—the ones who actually have to work hard to pass a crazy-hard exam and earn their license, instead of just sending in an application and signing a form—have to face harrowing trials, travel all across the region and battle Gym Leaders and worry about keeping our teams alive. And you’re just the placebo effects, the ones who encourage them to keep going, who lose to them so that they feel good about themselves and keep going, keep the wheel turning. And maybe you can be pissed about that, but not really—because you’re compensated for it.  _Generously_. You guys receive huge sums in exchange for throwing battles or just not being as qualified as your opponents.  
  
“So I got some advice for you, missy: buck up. You signed a contract. A binding one. An  _optional_  one. You  _chose_  this—but if you really hate dealing with League Trainers, then  _drop out_.”  
  
Rinka stepped forward, face red and livid, eyes blazing. A Ball had appeared in her hand, and Celestine felt suddenly like she should step back, like she was staring into the barrel of a gun. “Okay, that’s  _it_. You, me, battle— _now_.”  
  
The whispers of the crowd around Celestine escalated and crescendoed, hushed and droning like a Beedrill swarm. They buzzed against her skin, sent her vibrating with the need to take her frustrations out on something. A battle sounded  _perfect_. “Fine. Tanner?”  
  
“ _Actually_ , I think I landed on my wing funny,” the Pidgey said. He stretched his wing out to demonstrate, and it looked fine to Celestine, but she noticed that his feathered face twisted into a grimace, indicating discomfort, if not pain. “...much as I want to bash this chick’s face in.”  
  
Celestine exhaled through her nostrils and tried not to look at the triumph in Rinka’s eyes. “Okay. Delphi? Do want to handle this?”  
  
Delphi looked startled—though he shouldn’t be, it was him this bitch had attacked and ridiculed, had gone after even though her supposed “gripe” was with his Trainer. “Um. Okay, sure.”  
  
The girls both took several large steps back, putting enough space between them to properly execute a battle. Around them, the small crowd shifted and moved out of their way, eyes sparkling with anticipation, but Celestine hardly noticed, her eyes fixed on Rinka and the cocky sway of her hips, the haughtiness in her eyes. The Field Trainer stationed herself under the gate like a sentinel of some sort, the final boss in a video game level.  
  
_You think that highly of yourself, huh?_  
  
Shauna still stood in the middle, her astonishment and shock keeping her rooted in place. She tossed an uncomprehending look between Celestine and Rinka, then took a few steps back, removing herself from the line of fire.  
  
“So, normal Field battle,” she said with a hint of wariness. “No out-of-bounds rule, switching is allowed on both sides, Non-Reaper, right?”  
  
Rinka rolled her eyes. “Obviously. Do I  _look_  like a Berserker to you?”  
  
Shauna frowned, but Celestine felt a twinge of something indistinguishable in her chest.  _She said that for my benefit. A reminder to keep my temper in check..._  
  
_What does she think I’ll do?_  
  
Celestine knelt down, allowing Delphi to jump out of her arms and tense in preparation for battle. Rinka tossed her Ball and it split, depositing a bolt of light that coalesced into a Zigzagoon, not unlike the one used by the Youngster back on Route Two—only this one had a fiercer expression on it, haughtier, as if trying to imitate its Trainer.  
  
“Zaya, Tackle!” Rinka shouted.  
  
Her mammal responded immediately, bounding across the field and picking up speed. Celestine was about to order a counter attack—but then she noticed how slow it was, how it darted back and forth, left and right, how it was taking fucking forever to even get close to Delphi.  
  
_Slow-ass rodent. The last one we fought couldn’t have been this slow—but, then again, we did take it down almost instantly, so... who knows._  “Delphi, counter with a Tackle of your own. But be careful—it might take another century before it gets close.”  
  
Delphi glanced back, not sure if he should take her comment seriously or not. But then he shrugged and burst forward, his long, fluid strides a stark contrast to his opponent’s clumsy, drunken gait, and it was Delphi who crossed the invisible halfway mark first. He pulled his ears back, lowering his head as he galloped, preparing to slam his weight into the Zigzagoon’s side—  
  
But at the last minute, Zaya swerved to face Delphi, still following its zigzag rhythm, and it jumped into the air, just a little bit off the ground—enough for it to close the height gap and for their heads to collide with an audible  _crack_.  
  
“ _Ow_.” Delphi was sent reeling back, stumbling drunkenly, a grimace blooming across his features. He lost his balance and swayed, ears flattened. “Ow, that  _hurt_.”  
  
The Zigzagoon, meanwhile, shook its head and, after stumbling briefly, tensed back into a battle stance. All around Celestine, the crowd murmured and whispered like a living thing, too-audible breaths throwing her concentration off.  
  
“Delphi?” she called, and she had to restrain herself from taking a step forward into the makeshift battleground. “You okay?”  
  
“I think so?” Delphi shook his head, mimicking Zaya, only to wince. “Ohhh, that was a bad idea. Everything’s kinda...swaying. Did we get on a ship?”  
  
“No, Delphi. Shake it off, try to focus.”  _He took a bit more damage than his opponent. Given that it’s a Normal-Type, and Delphi said his line is Psychic—which have notoriously bad Defensive stats—I guess that makes sense. It probably gets STAB for that move._  
  
_But that movement pattern..._  Celestine squinted at the Zigzagoon—appropriately named, given its zigzagging strides—and frowned, trying to block out the incessant mutterings of the crowd in order to focus on her thoughts. Stupid people, stupid—no, no, she had to focus on the battle, pick up where her train of thought had left off.  _...At first glance, the Zigzagoon was slower than Delphi, but it changed direction so quickly... What it lacks in speed, it clearly makes up in agility. Does that mean those movements are actually an evasive maneuver of some kind?_  
  
_I need to see it again to be sure._  Delphi shook his head again, but this time he straightened, ears erect, muscles coiled and tense and braced for any command.  _I need to lure it into Tackling again._  
  
“Delphi, go in for another Tackle.”  _His Defense is a little lower, but he can probably take another hit, even with the STAB boost. He’s probably higher leveled._  
  
Rinka scoffed, eyes alight with haughty triumph. “Zaya, you Tackle too. Bash that Fennekin’s skull in this time.”  
  
The crowd murmured in approval at the bloody statement, and Celestine’s nose crinkled in disgust. This was why she hated tournaments back in Kanto—bloody spectacles, all of them, fueled by the lust of the crowd.  
  
Both Pokémon took off again, and again, Zaya was slower. They were closer to each other this time, so it would only be a handful of seconds before they clashed again, and Celestine needed more time.  
  
“Turn around!” Celestine commanded. “Come back over here!”  
  
Delphi skidded to a stop and shot her a baffled glance over his shoulder, but there must have been something reassuring in his expression that made him react instantly, spring back into a sprint—but in the other direction.  
  
While the crowd stuttered in surprise, Rinka’s expression turned vicious and angry. “What the hell do you think you’re pulling here? Zaya, follow it!”  
  
_Good. She took the bait._  
  
Delphi bounded back over, and Zaya gave chase with a firm expression that said it would have pursued even without its Trainer’s instructions, still zigging and zagging. The extra time allowed to Celestine analyze its movements more thoroughly, allow her to realize that they weren’t clumsy, like she’d initially thought, but rather swift and precise. The reason the opponent was slower was because it kept changing directions with every step, increasing the distance without increasing acceleration. But the key lied in its ability to change direction so quickly, almost instantaneously, possessing an agility that Delphi clearly lacked.  
  
She timed the direction changes. One, left. Two, right. Three, left. Four, right—  
  
Delphi was running out of field to run on.  
  
—five, left. Six, right—  
  
Time slowed.  
  
Celestine saw it all as it was happening, the way Delphi raced towards her, his strides longer and purposeful, eating up the distance much quicker. She saw the Zigzagoon turn again, and they were five seconds from colliding. She did the math: left, right, left, right, left. Delphi was slightly favoring the left and he would be out of room soon unless he turned. Zaya—catching up quickly, likely reaching the Fennekin the moment he was forced to turn and bowling him over from behind...in about five seconds.  
  
Five seconds to get it right.  
  
One second to give the command: “Delphi! Change of plan—Ember!”  _Left._  
  
One second for Delphi to process the command and use the momentum of his strides to perform a full 180-degree turn.  _Right._  
  
One second for him to shift into a battle stance, for the sunburst orange tufts in his ears to heat up.  _Left._  
  
One second for tongues of fire to appear in Delphi’s slightly opened mouth, lick at the air before being fired off.  _Right._  
  
One second for the tiny ball of flame to shoot through the air like an arrow from its quiver.  _Left._  
  
Bull’s eye.  
  
The Ember landed right in Zaya’s face as it made the turn at the exact moment Celestine predicted it would. It screeched, flames hitting it straight in the eyes and the burning must’ve been unbearable, or at least enough to throw its concentration, because it broke its path and stumbled in an agonized haze. Celestine watched with a morbid sort of satisfaction as the Zigzagoon fired off furious empty threat after empty threat, as the triumphant smirk on Rinka’s face fell and shattered on the ground.  
  
_Gotcha._  
  
“Zaya!” Rinka’s voice took on a slightly higher octave, something that was almost panic. “Shake it off. Tackle again!”  
  
Celestine took a second to count, then—“Tackle, Delphi.”  
  
The scene played out similarly to how it had at the beginning, Delphi with his long, loping strides and Zhang with its rapid direction changes—but the rhythm was different. This time, Delphi slammed himself into Zaya’s side and knocked the Zigzagoon off its feet, sent it tumbling across the grassy field. The crowd exclaimed in shock, but Celestine had long since managed to tune them out.  
  
She felt an involuntary tug at her lips and didn’t fight it. “Delphi.”  
  
They’d trained in the Forest, so he knew what that meant. While Zaya struggled to its feet and blinked, recovering from the shock of pain, Delphi inched forward, muscles tight and fur bristled, his Tail Whipping in a swaying motion designed to target Defensive ability and cut it down.  
  
Rinka’s eyes narrowed. “Fine. That’s how you wanna play it? Zaya, Tail Whip too!”  
  
The Zigzagoon did the opposite of Delphi. Rather than stay facing him, it turned its back to him and flashed its bottlebrush tail, wagged it in a swaying motion that made Delphi tense. The attack was direct, increasing the potency, but causing it to let it's guard down and making it a veritable target.  
  
_Rookie mistake._  
  
“Burn it!”  
  
Delphi’s ear tufts glowed and he let loose an Ember that soared past Zaya’s tail to land squarely on its back. The Zigzagoon screeched, its rhythm thrown, and it leaped back in shock.  
  
“Tackle!”  
  
Taking full advantage of Zaya’s distraction and Rinka’s clear panic at having the tables turn so quickly, Delphi slammed into his opponent and knocked it clean across the makeshift arena. It skidded to a halt a few feet from Rinka, who stared at her fallen mammal in shock.  
  
Then shock turned to red-faced fury. “Get  _up_ , Zaya! We can’t lose to them!”  
  
Celestine quirked a brow. The Zigzagoon was finished. Surely Rinka had to realize that. Screaming at spilled milk didn’t make it go back into the carton.  
  
Delphi padded over, pink tongue peeking out from parted jaws as he panted. “How... how was that?”  
  
“Good.” She smiled a little and meant it. “You got my signal and everything.”  
  
Max chirped in agreement and Ray gave him a thumbs up, though she had to wonder if the Panpour even knew what that meant. Tanner grumbled something under his breath about how he could have  _totally_  done the same thing, if his stupid wing wasn’t acting up.  
  
Delphi perked up, tail wagging, eyes bright with pride.  
  
There was a whooshing sound that had Celestine tearing her eyes off her Starter to look at Rinka, returning her fallen Zigzagoon. The Roller Skater replaced Zaya’s Ball with another, her expression one of virulent anger. “We’re not done yet, League bitch.”  
  
The crowd murmured, voices bubbling and oozing, and Celestine found her eye twitching more out of irritation towards her spectators than the insult itself. “Delphi, get back in.”  
  
“Oui!” Delphi barked enthusiastically. He took to the field again.  
  
Rinka threw her second Ball—the light flared momentarily, but it took to the skies instead of landing on the ground, and it became a dainty-looking Fletchling.  
  
Of course. Fletchinder’s pre-evolution. Just her luck.  
  
“Oh my  _god_!” Tanner screeched, somewhere between hysteric and furious, loud enough to drown out the whispering spectators. “ _Fucking_ — Let me at that thing, Trainer! I’ll beat its sorry flame-retardant ass into next century!”  
  
Celestine tore her eyes off the field and looked down at him with a frown, ignoring the urgent look Shauna sent her. “I thought you said your wing was busted.”  
  
Tanner hesitated briefly, eyes flashing. “It... suddenly got better. Doesn’t matter! I can still take ‘em with one wing tied behind my back!”  
  
She arched a brow, skeptical. Her gaze drifted, involuntarily, to Ray and Max, and the Panpour shook his head silently.  
  
Huh.  
  
Celestine knelt down. “C’mere.”  
  
The Pidgey blinked in surprise, but he did as instructed and hopped closer. She held her palm about, and he lowered his gaze to examine it, eye her hand warily, as if it were some foreign object, something alien and strange and maybe capable of hurting him. With a tentative wariness, Tanner hopped into her palm, his feet tightening around her fingers like a noose.  
  
She straightened, balancing his weight carefully in her hand. “Show me your wing.”  
  
He eyed her distrustfully for a moment. Then he unfurled his wing.  
  
Celestine rolled her eyes. “The  _other_  wing, bird.”  
  
Tanner retracted his good wing quickly. “It’s  _fine_.”  
  
“Uh huh. Sure.” She grabbed his other wing by one of the long cream feathers that lined it and tugged. He let out a startled yelp, fighting to pull his wing back—she could see his muscles spasming under thick tan and cream feathers, but she could also see the grimace that twisted his features as he did so, the way he clamped his beak shut in an effort to keep from making strained noises.  
  
Celestine let go. “Right. It looks like you landed on it oddly. Nothing serious, but it might’ve resulted in a sprain.”  
  
Tanner winced and carefully refolded his bad wing, though doing so clearly made him uncomfortable. “See? Fine, just like I said. I can fight that thing, peck its stupid face in—”  
  
“No,” she interrupted. “I don’t know what your gripe against Fletchling kind is—”  
  
“Look at him!” Tanner screeched, gesturing to the enemy Bird with his good wing. “He’s so smug and he’s practically  _begging_  to be pulverized!”  
  
“—but it’s going to have to wait,” Celestine finished, trying to not let her left eye give in to the urge to twitch in irritation. God, this bird and his constant interruptions were really starting to grate on her nerves. Fuck her promises and her honor, this wasn’t worth it. “You’re benched until we get to the Center.”  
  
“I'll agree to that,” Tanner said haughtily, “if I can perch on your—”  
  
“You even try to go near my head and I will  _strangle_  you, I swear by the Sacred Birds,” Celestine hissed. “Shoulder.  _Now_.”  
  
Tanner gave her a petulant glare, but she raised her arm closer to her shoulder, and he huffed and conceded defeat, hopping onto her shoulder. She didn’t lower her arm again until she felt his feet clasp themselves onto her shoulder, felt his talons bury themselves securely into the fabric of her shirt. And when she did, she caught a glimpse of Ray nodding in approval.  
Her mouth twisted into a frown. She didn’t need the Panpour’s approval.  
  
“Hey!” came Rinka’s angry shout from across the field. Celestine turned back to the Field Trainer and, god, she could feel the heat of the girl’s glare from over two yards away. “Are we finishing this or not?”  
  
The crowd murmured in impatient agreement, and Celestine wondered what it was about people not minding their business that had become so trendy. This hardly concerned them. Maybe they were curious to see whether or not the foreign girl who’d beaten them so effortlessly would be put on the ropes, or get her just deserts. What a spectacle.  
  
_Ha ha, go to hell, all of you_ , she thought sourly, then glanced back at Delphi. He was staring at her expectantly, left ear and tail-tip twitching with anxious energy.  
  
“We’re starting now!” Celestine answered, eyes darting over to the circling bird. “Tail Whip, Delphi.”  
  
Normally, Celestine would have liked to start stronger—attack it, cause some damage—but Birds were tricky. You couldn’t hit them while they were in the air. You had to wait until they were close enough, unless your battling Pokémon was exceptionally skilled at long-range attacks. Delphi had the potential for being a long-ranged attacker, true, but that was the future and this was now. And now, he needed to bait it into coming closer before he landed a solid, focused hit.  
  
Delphi’s tail Whipped back and forth, like a matador waving a red flag before a bull. The Fletchling narrowed its eyes as if offended.  
  
Rinka scoffed. “Tackle, Danny.”  
  
Danny changed direction and swooped down low, straight and true like an arrow. A twinge of worry went through Celestine—birds tended to be Attack-orientated and Delphi’s Defenses were low enough without having taken Zaya’s Tail Whip, which only made him a weaker target. And the STAB boost too. Apparently, while its line was Fire-Typed, Fletchling themselves were Normal-Types until evolution.  
  
She needed to intercept, and fast. “Delphi, Tackle it!”  
  
Delphi pounced and intercepted Danny mid-air. Delphi was bigger and heavier, so his weight knocked the Fletchling out of the sky, sent them both tumbling and rolling across the grass. Rinka gave a desperate shout, but when they landed, Delphi had Danny pinned, paws pressed firmly on the bird’s delicate wings, its stomach exposed and eyes narrowed into a hateful glare as it struggled, vainly, to free itself from Delphi’s hold.  
  
“Good! Ember it!”  
  
Delphi’s ear tufts heated and he parted his jaws, orange firelight glowing and tongues of flame peeking out—  
  
“Quick Attack!” Rinka shouted.  
  
—and then Danny vibrated in place, the way a tuning fork does when it was banged against something hard and made that high, whining noise that left your ears buzzing. Before Celestine could blink, it blurred and streaked and then Delphi was thrown off, tumbling and yelping and the Ember that was fired off dissipated harmlessly into the air. Danny ricocheted and used the momentum to retreat back into the sky, returning back to its wide, predatory circling, like that was somehow supposed to be intimidating.  
  
Celestine turned her eyes back to her Starter, licking her lip nervously and trying not to let her worry show.  _Quick Attack. Shit. That’s going to make things tricky._  “Delphi, you okay?”  
  
Delphi struggled to his feet, swaying dangerously, still reeling from the hit. He grimaced when he put weight on his left foreleg. “Fine! He hit my shoulder socket—it’s not dislocated or anything, just kinda sore.”  
  
“Good.” Celestine turned her gaze to the sky. She could have sworn that the bird was smirking at her.  _Alistair never used Quick Attack in my battle against Calem. But then again, he did underestimate me during then, so maybe he didn’t pull out all the stops. Either way, I need to be way more cautious. Quick Attack is a sure-fire, first-hit move, but if she’s smart—and I hope to the Birds she isn’t—she’ll use it to dodge as well. I already can’t fight thing in close quarters. If I can’t hit it from afar, we’re screwed._  “Try to avoid getting hit like that again, though.”  
  
“We’ll see about that!” Rinka pointed dramatically. “Quick Attack again, Danny!”  
  
The Fletchling blurred, flickering in and out of existence like an afterimage, and then it was zooming towards Delphi again with all the intent to maim and hurt.  
  
“Ember,” Celestine shot back. It wasn’t close enough for a clear shot, but based on Delphi’s reaction time and the Fletchling’s velocity, that wouldn’t be a problem for very long.  
  
Delphi launched another small burst of flame and knocked Danny off course, sent him spiraling through the air. Rinka hissed in fury.  
  
“Tackle again, Danny!”  
  
“Ember!”  
  
Danny dived again, but the acceleration was significantly less than it had been before, and when Delphi’s ears heated—  
  
“Quick Attack from the side!”  
  
Celestine’s eyes widened as Danny swerved and Delphi’s attack clipped Danny’s left wing, but otherwise missed. The Fletchling suddenly accelerated and slammed into Delphi’s side, sent the Fennekin tumbling again. He let out a yelp that was either from surprise or pain and for a worrying moment, she couldn’t tell which.  
  
“Delphi!”  
  
“I’m fine,” he called, getting back up again, no hesitation. Good—he wasn’t too badly hurt.  
  
_Still, though._  Celestine eyed the Fletchling warily. It had returned to circling lazily over the field, predatory and mocking.  _I anticipated using Quick Attack defensively, but she’s still going offensive. I should’ve read that. Fuck._  
  
Rinka grinned triumphantly. “Danny, Tackle again.”  
  
Celestine’s eyes narrowed. Surely Rinka realized the same tactic wouldn’t work twice. “Delphi, Ember again.”  
  
Again, Danny dived, and again, Delphi prepared a Fire attack, flames leaping from his jaws.  
  
“Gotcha! Quick Attack to the side!”  
  
“Shift positions!” Celestine shouted. She couldn’t believe Rinka actually thought she could pull this off again, and that the Field Trainer wasn’t even waiting until Delphi launched his attack before giving out the command.  
  
Danny was fast, blurring into a streak of grey and orange, but Delphi understood the moment the Fletchling changed positions and swerved to guard his side. The Ember soared through the air, crackling and burning—  
  
—and suddenly sputtered out, like an old car engine giving up after years of abuse. The attack faltered and wavered and fell to the ground in some pathetic mockery of a meteor, burning up into a puff of ash long before it even came close to Danny.  
  
And meanwhile, the Fletchling slammed into Delphi again with its full weight—which, in itself, was significantly less than Delphi, but the acceleration and the momentum were more than strong enough to send the Fennekin tumbling with a shrill yelp that was  _definitely_  pain.  
  
“Oshi—Delphi!”  
  
Judging whispers erupted all around Celestine, but her attention remained locked on her Starter, who once again got to his feet. This time, though, it was evident that Delphi was struggling a bit more, swaying on his paws, dizzily, wincing when he put too much weight on his left leg. Heat rippled off the tufts of his ears, and she thought he was charging another Fire attack at first—which sent a pang of anger through her, he was acting without her permission—but then she noticed the obvious strain on his face, the way the heat rippled fitfully, like it was being forced out. Then Delphi opened his mouth, the glow of Fire barely visible, but it transformed into a hacking cough, and puff after puff of smoke and soot and a smattering of nonlethal sparks.  
  
Celestine swallowed.  _Uh oh._  
  
“Hey, Trainer,” Tanner said softly, with a seriousness that was highly uncharacteristic, “I think he’s outta Aura Points.”  
  
She hardly heard him, having come to the same conclusion, and thoughts whirling in a too-loud buzz that blocked out everything but her own rising panic.  _Shit. Shit shit shit shit shit!_  
  
“Delphi,  _get back here_.”  
  
He coughed up a few more sparks and then looked up at her, bewildered.  
  
“ _Ima yare_!”  
  
Startled, he did as he was told and came running.  
  
“Oh no you  _don’t_!” Rinka pointed. “Danny, Quick Attack!”  
  
“ _Duck_!” Celestine shrieked over the excited roar of the spectators.  
  
Delphi reacted immediately and hit the deck, flattening himself against the ground—and just in time, too. Danny whizzed past overhead, but once the bird realized it had passed its target, it stuttered and put the breaks on immediately. As it turned, it came close enough for Celestine to whack it out of the air with her bag, if she wanted to, but she didn’t.  
  
The bird swerved around before Celestine could act on the impulse and went in for another dive.  
  
“Delphi,  _get out of there_!”  
  
Delphi lifted his head just as the bird prepared to strike—  
  
—and it was suddenly interrupted by a pair of spiked green whips that crashed into the ground, forcing the Fletchling to hit the breaks. The crowd let out outraged cries at the interruption.  
  
“What the hell do you think you’re doing!?” Rinka screeched as Shauna and Mint intruded on the battlefield, the Chespin retracting her vines.  
  
Shauna ignored her and the spectators and instead turned to Celestine, eyes uncharacteristically stern. “You were trying to return him, right? To switch out?”  
  
Celestine nodded wordlessly.  
  
“Then she should’ve used the damn Ball,” Rinka spat, but she was once again ignored as Shauna knelt down and scooped Delphi up into her arms. The Hoennian jogged over to Celestine, Mint trailing her.  
  
“Believe this is yours, milady,” Shauna said once she’d gotten close enough to be heard over the disappointed crowd, flashing a smile that was probably meant to match the mischief in her tone but instead only looked relieved. She handed Delphi over to Celestine. “But she’s right, though—use the Ball next time.”  
  
Celestine frowned, feeling oddly insulted at that. “Will do. Get off the field.”  
  
Shauna arched a brow. “How about a ‘thank you’?”  
  
Celestine’s brow twitched. “How about ‘when I’m not battle a chick with anger issues’?”  
  
“ _Fine_.” Shauna pouted and poked Celestine in the arm the Kantonian was using to cradle Delphi. “One of these days, Lavieaux, I’m gonna get you to behave.”  
  
“ _Behave_?” Celestine repeated incredulously.  
  
Shauna only offered a thin, enigmatic smile before she and Mint darted off to the side again and melded back into the flock of annoying spectators. Celestine followed the other girl with her eyes before shaking her head, reminding herself that she had bigger priorities than figuring out ways to deflect Shauna’s constant affability.  
  
“I can still fight,” Delphi mewled from the cradle of her arms, a touch of something desperate in his tone. His eyes were stubborn and alight with a persistence that Celestine would have otherwise admired, were his fur not so cool to the touch. With his Fire Aura depleted the natural warmth he’d carried was gone, and he felt cold in comparison to earlier.  
  
“Not from long distance,” Celestine retorted coolly, clipped and terse. “And it’s too risky for you to fight in close quarters—you’re done.”  
  
Delphi’s ears drooped and he lowered his head with a whimper.  
  
Celestine regarded him and his disappointed demeanor for a moment, unsure what to make of it. The logical, analytic part of her that dominated battles and never steered her wrong claimed that his reaction wasn’t warranted, that he was simply in denial over the realization that he was no longer a veritable key to victory, that he had outlived his usefulness. It didn’t mean he was useless, just that he had outlived his usefulness in this battle, through no fault of his own. He’d simply run out of Aura, something that happened to even the members of a Champion’s team. If she’d kept him in with a disadvantage, he would only end up being a liability and would have ended up injured for no reason but her own ego and refusal to acknowledge weaknesses where they existed. He had weaknesses, and she recognized them and pulled him out when it got too risky. Logically, it had been the right decision. He couldn’t be faulted for that. He shouldn’t feel bad. Logically—it made no sense.  
  
But this wasn’t about logic. Battling never was. It was about honor and pride and passion, the synchrony of Trainer and Pokémon, the fiery eyes and the spirit of competition—all the things Celestine had grown up with, had almost forgotten over the course of five years away form her home. This wasn’t about winning and losing, surviving and dying. Delphi wasn’t like her old team, ruthlessly loyal and requiring little but a few shows of superiority to earn said loyalty. In all honesty, until she’d met Delphi and made that deal with him, Celestine had almost forgotten what it was like to earn her team’s trust, expecting it to come as naturally as it had before. But this wasn’t a place where loyalty was necessity for survival, and survival was something that everyone coveted jealously.  
  
It wasn’t bad, just different. Different wasn’t bad.  
  
She released a sigh and patted his head—lightly, awkwardly, she was rusty with the whole bonding thing, after all. “Hey, you did fine. Next battle, I’ll give you dibs, okay?”  
  
Delphi perked up a little at that. There was still a haze of disappointment around him, but it had lessened somewhat, diluted by surprise at the gesture. “I, um, okay.”  
  
“Wanna go back on my shoulder?”  
  
“Um. Sure.” She allowed him to scrabble up and get himself settled, but after he did so, he cast her a look that was reluctantly inquiring. “...you’re not mad?”  
  
Celestine blinked, nonplussed. “Why do you think I would be mad?”  
  
“...‘cause I screwed up.”  
  
On Celestine’s shoulder, Tanner ruffled his feathers and scoffed. “It’s not like you can control how much Aura you use, kid. You ran out, simple. Hardly a thing you can control. But don’t worry! I’ll finish off that damned—”  
  
“You’re  _benched_ , Tanner.”  
  
“C’mon! It doesn’t even hurt that bad!”  
  
“No.”  
  
“Well we can’t send the kid in!” Tanner snapped, gesturing with his good wing to Max and Ray. “I mean, y’know, my kid, not your kid. I mean, he’s not really my kid, and I guess the fox isn’t really your kid either—unless he’s like adopted or something, which I’ve got no problem with, you do you and all—but, oh you know who I mean!”  
  
“Max,” Celestine said flatly.  
  
The Pidgey perked up at the sound of his new name, but Tanner continued. “Whatever! You get the point!”  
  
Celestine was about to respond, but then she felt a tug on her pant leg and glanced down. Ray, still balancing Max on his arm, one hand gripped firmly on the denim of her jeans. She couldn’t read his expression too well, his eyes clamped shut in what, according to her Dex, was a natural phenomenon, but she could have sworn these was something about his expression that was an uncanny resemblance to resolution.  
  
She blinked down at him. “...do you want to battle?”  
  
The Panpour nodded.  
  
“...are you sure?” She eyed him cautiously. “You were pretty weak from the Poison earlier. Do you think you’re strong enough?”  
  
Again, the Panpour nodded, a little more fiercely this time.  
  
“Well. Okay then.”  
  
Ray nodded a third time and turned to Max, gently coaxing the little bird off his perch on Ray’s arm. Max was confused, at first, but eventually fluttered to the ground, and looked on in bewilderment as Ray bounded over to take his place on the field.  
  
“Ready?” Rinka demanded irritably.  
  
“Yes.”  
  
“ _Finally_. Danny, Quick Attack!”  
  
_Fucking hell! Right off the bat!?_  
  
Danny blurred again and dived at wicked speed, aiming straight for Ray, who braced in anticipation for the attack. Celestine’s thoughts whirled, trying to think of an effective counter, trying to recall Ray’s moveset—which she’d only briefly glimpsed, having no intention to battle with him until after she’d stopped at the Center first, but life and plans tended not to mix—when she suddenly recalled something that made her smirk.  
  
“Ray, Play Nice!”  
  
A burst of sparkling, pale light—light that looked warm and inviting and friendly—coalesced around Ray’s hand-paws and he held them out in front of them, waiting, waiting, waiting, the crowd growing restless with anticipation as Danny sped forward like a bullet and—  
  
—and Ray caught the Fletchling in his hands, effortlessly. Celestine barely caught a glimpse of the shock on the bird’s face before Ray launched himself into the air. The Panpour summersaulted flawlessly, the glow around his hands almost blinding.  
  
They landed, together, like a radiant meteor—but as the warm, amicable glow began to ebb little by little, it revealed Ray, an expression of determination that greatly belied the warm, fuzzy feel of the light, crouching possessively over Danny. The Fletchling had its wings pinned, just like Delphi had done earlier, but this time, though the bird tried in vain to accelerate into a Quick Attack to free itself, the glow around Ray’s hands kept it firmly in place. With nowhere else for the Quick Attack to go, the Fletchling ended up, sort of,  _jackhammering_  the ground underneath, the vibrations eating into the soft earth.  
  
_Well, that worked almost perfectly_ , Celestine thought with some satisfaction.  
  
The Aura around Ray’s hands continued to dim at a steady pace, and while Rinka screamed in frustration for her bird to  _do something_ , Ray took a quick glance at Celestine, as if waiting for permission. It took a minute for Celestine to understand, and it hit her with a jolt that Ray was wondering if it was okay to let go now. She nodded swiftly, and Ray leaped back just as the Aura faded completely—and all the Fletchling’s pent-up energy sent it rocketing straight up, almost twenty feet above the ground in the span of ten seconds before it finally reoriented itself.  
  
Rinka bared her teeth, clearly frustrated with the battle’s momentum and how it danced constantly out of her grasp. “Dammit, Tackle!”  
  
Danny swerved, diving at breakneck speed. Ray backed away a few paces and braced himself, crossing his arms over his face.  
  
Celestine waited for a moment, then—“Scratch!”  
  
Ray reacted instantly—not like Delphi, was tentative and questioning, constantly unsure—and lashed out with his arm the moment Danny came close enough, batting it straight out of the air, hand-paws trailing scintillating white claw marks. The Scratch knocked the bird off course and onto the ground, sent it skidding across the battlefield. Tanner whooped at the sight of the Fletchling going down, and the crowd roared in appreciation.  
  
Danny managed to right itself, ruffling its feathers and sending a piercing glare. Rinka stamped her foot angrily. “Peck it,” the Trainer hissed venomously, “Peck it  _hard_.”  
  
A knowing glint entered the Fletchling’s dark eyes, but it took to the air before Celestine could think anything of it. As it came closer, a white light engulfed its beak and trailed behind the bird as it shot forward—a charging Peck attack.  
  
Only it had charged way too fast.  
  
And there was way more light bleeding into the air than there should have been.  
  
By the time Celestine figured it out, and—for only a moment—allowed an impending sense of horror to consume her, it was too late. Her eyes widened and her mouth opened to release a shout of warning, but by then—  
  
—the Fletchling slammed into Ray, beak first, and all of a sudden the grass turned from green to red and Ray’s mouth opened into a scream, but he was mute so there was no sound. Just an expression of pain and horror, face twisted into a silent scream, and crimson blood against green grass and yellow dandelions.  
  
Celestine’s vision went white for a second. Just, white. Pure, undiluted  _white_ , and then  _white_  noise in her ears drowning out the shocked murmurs and yelps of the spectators, and everything was just,  _white_. And then she was running, racing to her Panpour, her bag in one hand and ready to swing the moment that demonic bird got too close.  
  
But luckily Delphi took care of that. The bird was zooming past when Delphi suddenly pounced and took it out of the air. They rolled across the grass for a moment before Delphi pinned it, face livid and a menacing growl rising from deep within his throat. “How  _dare_  you— you— you— you  _jerkface_!”  
  
Celestine could think of a thousand worse names to scream at that Birds-forsaken Fletchling, but for a kid like Delphi, “jerkface” was probably rather extreme.  
  
She reached Ray and dropped to her knees, knowing that she was probably getting blood on her jeans but not caring. Tanner was saying something, but she hardly heard him, the white noise too intense, as she took the Panpour into her arms. Ray was not dead— _not yet_ , whispered some treacherous, dark part of her,  _not yet_ —but the wound was deep and bloody, the equivalent of a bullet wound on a human, but without the bullet to lessen the blood flow and keep it from spilling out everywhere in a warm red river. The Panpour’s body was spasming somewhat in Celestine’s hands, twitching lightly. If she took out his Ball right now and looked at the health bar, it would probably be bright crimson like the blood in the grass, informing her that he was in critical condition.  
  
Critical, but not dead.  
  
A rookie in this situation would have panicked and screamed, would have thought of everything and nothing at once, would have frozen in place, not sure how to react. But Celestine was no rookie, and she was remarkably methodical and level-headed in how she immediately began riffling through her bag for his Ball. Putting him in stasis would stop the bleeding, keep him from dying, at least until she could get him to the Center where he could receive proper, life-saving treatment. She found it and pulled it out and returned him. In a flash of rosy light, he was safely ensconced in the life-support system of his metal Ball, and all that remained was the crimson color splashed across her hands and soaked into the denim of her jeans.  
  
Celestine stood, an icy pressure bubbling up in her stomach. In a few long strides, she crossed the makeshift battlefield—and soon she was in front of Rinka, who seemed small and fragile up close, eyes wide, trembling a little in the face of the Kantonian’s blazing eyes and silent fury.  
  
“ _What the fuck was that_ ,” Celestine hissed, voice soft and deadly and cold like a snowfall before it turning into a blizzard. All around her, the murmurs of the spectators building, building, building into a storm of its own.  
  
Rinka tried to mask her fear with indignance. “I-I don’t know what you’re talking about.”  
  
“Your  _Fletchling_.” Celestine caught a glimpse of movement in her peripheral, pink and black and brown. Likely Shauna, racing to Celestine’s rescue, the knight off to keep the monster in check. “It attacked with the intent to  _kill_. In a  _Non_ -Reaper. You  _violated_  your own rules.”  
  
Someone grabbed Celestine’s arm, hands soft as silk and uncalloused. Shauna. “Celie, it was probably just a mistake. An accident—”  
  
“That Peck was  _condensed_ ,” Celestine spat, half ignoring Shauna and half answering her. She shook the Hoennian’s grip off and advanced on Rinka, eyes dark and predatory. “You do realize that’s  _illegal_ , don’t you?”  
  
Rinka stuttered incoherently, somewhere between scared and indignant and not quite sure which one was most appropriate.  
  
“Do you realize what you just did? What you  _could_  have done?” Celestine grabbed her by the shirt and pulled her close, so that the girl’s grey eyes clashed into Celestine’s own blazing sapphire. On her shoulder, she caught a glimpse of Tanner bristling, the fury and disgust on his face a mirror of her own. “So  _what_? You didn’t know, or you knew and didn’t  _care_? Were you just so obsessed with winning that you didn’t care how it happened? You wanted to beat me  _so_  badly, sate that inferiority complex of yours, that you just didn’t care if you  _killed_  one of my Pokémon? Didn’t care that you were breaking the rules, violating the League guidelines and putting your licence on the line, taking your own integrity and dragging it through the mud? Disregarding your own honor, and your Pokémon’s honor? Does integrity mean  _nothing_  to you?”  
  
Rinka wrestled out of Celestine’s grip and tried to give the Kantonian a shove, but only succeeded in pushing herself back. “Don’t give me that crap! How is it  _my_  fault if one of your Pokémon is too weak to take a condensed attack?”  
  
The white crackling in Celestine’s head returned with a vengeance, and words could not describe the wave of  _utter disgust_  that flooded her in that moment, something so vile and virulent and acidic that Celestine didn’t even bother to keep herself from reacting. And it wasn’t that her mind went blank, or that her thoughts evaporated, or that she had lost her ability to use logic and reason to the boiling cesspool of her emotions—oh no, when she raised her hand, she knew  _exactly_  what she was doing.  
  
_Smack._  
  
Rinka’s face was thrown to the side by the force of the slap, and there was no doubt in Celestine’s mind that the bright red mark would morph into an ugly bruise.  
  
The spectators erupted into shock, but Celestine hardly heard as she grabbed the Roller Skater by the chin and brought her in close, bending down so that they were at eye level. She pulled the girl in close, so that Celestine’s lips were close to her ear.  
  
“This battle is over,” Celestine whispered, acidic and cloying. “And I won. You forfeited your right to victory the moment you ordered that attack. I’m not going to ask for mercy money—instead, I’m going to take my Panpour to the Center, and while I’m waiting for the nurses to heal him, I’m going to file a report telling the League  _exactly_  what happened here today. And if you think that’s not going to do anything, you should know that I’m a Dex Holder, bitch. You just messed with one of the Professor’s wards. And I am going to personally ensure that you get your license revoked,  _permanently_.”  
  
And then Celestine shoved her to the ground, staring down at this  _disgustingly_  weak and pathetic and  _cowardly_  little girl who cared more about victory than the  _sanctity of life_ —  
  
_and she was so young_  
  
—“Delphi, let it go,” Celestine heard herself say loudly, turning her back to the fallen Field Trainer.  
  
Delphi was still crouched over the Fletchling, still glaring with unmitigated fury, and though he didn’t look up, his ears twitched with the indication that he’d heard. The growling in his throat quieted. “But— But he—”  
  
“Isn’t worth it.”  
  
There was a beat of silence, and then Delphi stepped away, sparing the bird a furious glare, and padded over to Celestine. When he got close enough, she knelt down and scooped him into her arms. He nuzzled against her chest, and his frame was trembling—with anger and fear, she couldn’t tell.  
  
“Hey, Trainer,” came Tanner’s voice, uncharacteristically soft. “The kid—Max, or somethin’—he’s still on the other end of the field. I think he’s in shock.”  
  
Celestine glanced briefly at the end of the field—just to verify that Tanner was right, and he was, Max was still on the ground, staring at the place where Ray had been bleeding—and then immediately turned to her bag, fishing out his Ball. She returned him quickly, because he didn’t need to be here for this, and he was gone in a flash of rosy light. Clipping it to her belt, she turned and started towards the gate.  
  
“Celie—” Shauna tried to say as the Kantonian passed, but Celestine ignored her.  
  
The school-aged Field Trainers parted around Celestine, staring at her with enormous, horrified eyes, and Rinka’s terrified eyes followed her, but Celestine Leavieaux didn’t spare any of them a second glance as she crossed the great white gates and breached Santalune’s borders.

* * *

**Current Team:**

_Delphi, Male Fennekin (Lv 8)_  
_Docile, Takes plenty of siestas_  
_Ability: Blaze_  
_Moves: Scratch, Tail Whip, Ember_  
_Met: Vaniville ~~Aquacorde~~  Town_  
  
_Max, Male Pidgey (Lv 7)_  
_Naïve, Very finicky_  
_Ability: Tangled Feet_  
_Moves: Tackle, Sand Attack_  
_Met: Route Two_  
  
_Ray, Male Panpour (Lv 7)_  
_Quiet, Likes to relax_  
_Ability: Gluttony_  
_Moves: Scratch, Play Nice, Leer_  
_Met: Santalune Forest_  
  
_Tanner, Male Pidgey (Lv 4)_  
_Hasty, Scatters things often_  
_Ability: Tangled Feet_  
_Moves: Tackle, Sand Attack_  
_Met: Route ~~Three~~  Two_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh my god, I hate battle scenes (so, naturally, I decide to do a nuzlocke, I'm a genius). And Tanner is finally added to the team. It's only been forever since his introduction.
> 
> The "era" of the Legendary Trainers occurred about twenty years before CLV, so most of the main characters (the humans, anyhow) don't have any memory of the events. They just heard about what happened and its become a bit of a mythos in the world of Trainers, especially for their generation. But Celestine knows the story of the Kanto LT a little better than most because SPOILERS.
> 
> So, in-game, Roller Skater Rinka gives you your roller skates. In-story, though, she just gives Celestine shit. Though, I'm not sure if that particularly gives Celestine permission to be a bitch (but, in her defense, Rinka’s "condensing" tactic, as described in a worldbuilding tidbit a while ago, is considered cheating when it involves attacking moves and, in Kanto, is overall considered dishonorable, so).
> 
> I don't think the move Play Nice has ever been really portrayed in any media, anime, manga, or otherwise, but based on the name and its Attack-reducing effect, I envisioned it as a move capable of nullifying low-leveled attacks and buffering the higher-leveled ones. Creative liberties, I know, but hey, every story takes some, right?
> 
> Spoiler: Ray doesn't die. This whole scene is based on a near-death experience that happened with a Fletchling. I never specified in my notes if it was a wild one or if it belonged to a Trainer, so I just incorporated it here.
> 
> Also, updates will be SLOWING DOWN from now on, simply because it's starting to catch up to the place where the story is currently. Not much after this is written out, so updates might be weeks apart from now on.
> 
> That's all for now,  
> Luna


	14. Chapter 5: Peste (Part 2)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Look who's not dead.

**Chapter 5—Peste**  
(noun)

  * French for “plague”, “scourge”, or “pestilence”



 

 

Celestine had barely made it down the street before Shauna came up from behind and blocked her. The look on the Hoennian’s face was some odd amalgamation of furious and horrified, Mint likely tucked away in her Ball while her Trainer confronted the beast.  
  
The thought sent a curl of amusement through Celestine. Here was the brave little knight, dressed in armor of pink and glitter, armed with a sword in the form of a spiky little chipmunk sheathed in a metal Ball. And Celestine? Well, she was the beast of the story, at least in this tale. If Shauna continued to stand by Celestine, to cling to her and follow after her like a shadow, then it was only a matter of time before the  _real_  monsters reared their heads. But knights didn’t kill monsters. Monsters ate them up and spat out their bones and Celestine was the beacon. Once the monsters came running, Celestine knew couldn’t fight them and protect the knight at the same time. She would have to choose, and she knew she would have to choose protection—it was a simple fact, but a fatal one, because while Celestine was invulnerable, an Aesith of supernatural power, Shauna was painfully mortal and painfully killable.  
  
Celestine was here to fight monsters. She could only do that if she was alone, with no one to focus her efforts on protecting.  
  
_I’m going to get you killed, knight_ , she thought ruefully.  
  
“What  _the fuck_  was that?” Shauna demanded, jabbing a finger at Celestine.  
  
The Kantonian narrowed her eyes.  
  
“No, seriously,  _what was that_? I mean, I get that you’re mad she almost killed Ray. I get that. Hell, I’m okay with you yelling at her. But  _hitting_  her.  _Physically assaulting_  her—you  _can’t do that_ , you hear me!? That’s  _not_  okay, under  _any_  circumstances! Two wrongs  _do not_  make a right, and—  _Are you even **listening**  to me_?”  
  
“No,” Celestine said flatly.  
  
Shauna’s jaw  _dropped_. “Celestine!”  
  
The world of Transcendence was treacherous and frightful, a mad world that existed so close to the world of normality that anyone caught in the middle would be crushed and it would make claustrophobics scream. Celestine recalled the sunrise, the golden divide, and knew what she had to do.  
  
“Why do you even care?” she asked softly, so calm and level that she surprised herself.  
  
“...what?”  
  
Celestine forced her brows to arch as if Shauna’s blinking bewilderment baffled her, force the words to come out, even though the broke inside her chest like shards of glass and they cut her tongue as they spilled out.  
  
“Why on earth would you possibly care about some random foreigner who you hardly know? Despite what you believe, Shauna, we’re not friends.” And it hurt to say it, hurt to remember that she was meant to stand alone and face the beasts, but everyone else was weak and only she could do this. Had to do this,  _wanted_  to do this, so she kept going, and the glass broke in her throat and it hurt, hurt,  _hurt_ , but she  _kept going_. “And I don’t want to be, don’t need to be. And if I wanted or needed a friend, someone like you would hardly be my first choice. I mean, honestly? Not only is your reason for this Journey flimsy, but you’re not even dedicated, and that honestly makes me pity you.”  
  
Shauna took a step back, as if she’d been struck, her eyes flashing with a scintillating hurt. “What...?”  
  
Celestine was bleeding inside. Her tongue was being sliced open and Tanner was trying to ask her what she was doing, Delphi pawing at her chest and peering up at her with a question in his eyes. But she remembered  _red_ —red goggles and wicked smiles and silent screams and  _pain_ —and she told herself she was a protector, that this was the right thing, and that made it easier to say, “You wanted to go on a Journey to live your life, and yet you slow down to tell someone else how to live? Words can’t describe how  _stupid_  that is. I hardly know you. I almost left you in the Forest, and you still consider me a friend?  _Honestly_! Hell, I  _wanted_  to leave you there. Do you have any idea how annoying you are? I mean, you drag me along just so you can talk about  _anime_ , of all the ridiculous things. And you don’t take anything seriously. Battles, this Journey,  _me_.  
  
“I’m not some girl who moved in across the street that you can turn into your new BFF after a week or two, talking about boys and watching chick flicks with. I came here for  _one_  reason only—a Journey, one that I have been planning for a  _long_  time, and,  _newsflash_ , you’re not part of that plan. If anything, you’re  _royally_  fucking it up.”  
  
Shauna’s reaction was slow and really quite spectacular to watch, seeing shock turn to confusion turn to a slow-burning anger turn to hurt. Seeing her brows lower and furrow and turn her forehead into a wrinkled mess, seeing her lower lip twitch and quiver and her eyes turn wet. “Geez, I didn’t realize trying be your friend was such an  _inconvenience_.”  
  
Celestine forced out a sharp, mocking laugh while the mantra the right thing,  _the right thing, the right thing_  spun in her head. “Oh, don’t give me that ‘all I’ve ever been was nice to you’ act! Can you honestly say that you’re happy, trailing after me like a shadow? Inconveniencing yourself for my sake?”  
  
Shauna opened her mouth to fire off a retort—but she stopped suddenly, blinking and closing her mouth, her expression changed from angered hurt to thoughtful. And from there, it morphed into something almost shameful, guilty, biting her lip and looking away.  
  
“I thought so.” Celestine brushed past her, trying to ignore the stinging in the back of her eyes. “Let’s just do each other a favor and, just, stop. I’ll go to the Center, and you go connect to the WonderTrade network, and let’s not get in each other’s way anymore. Okay? Okay.  _Great_.”  
  
There was a stretch of silence and Celestine kept walking. Tanner tried to say something, but she silenced him with a light flick to the head, and she didn’t meet Delphi’s pleading gaze below her. It was over and Celestine felt like there was giant papercut all along her insides, but at least it was a clean break and now it was  _over_ —  
  
“I don’t  _get_  you!” Celestine stopped and glanced over her shoulder—the one Tanner wasn’t sitting on—to see Shauna, bristled and furious, tears glinting in the corners of eyes blazing with hurt. “Just when I thought you were  _finally_  opening up— Are you, like,  _afraid_  of people getting to know you or something?!”  
  
It took all of Celestine’s self control to keep her breathing even. The papercut inside felt like it’d been doused in saline. “Why would I be afraid? You hardly know me.”  
  
“Look,” Shauna said in a slightly more placating tone. “I get that you’ve got some intimacy issues, and a bunch of other shit to work out. But I can  _help_ —”  
  
“I don’t  _want_  help. I don’t  _need_  help.” Celestine turned away. “Do yourself a favor and leave me alone.”  
  
Celestine heard what sounded like a shuddering gasp, followed by the sound of heels clicking against the brick walkways, but she didn’t look back. She started walking again, ignoring the way her throat clamped and seemed intent on strangling her from the inside out.  
  
“Hey.” Tanner’s voice was harsh, scolding, paternal, and the sound it almost made her laugh. “Was that really necessary?”  
  
“Yes,” she said, and deep in her heart, she believed it. Doing the right thing hurt sometimes.  
  
“Oh really?” She could feel Tanner glaring at her, but she kept her eyes trained forward on the brick paths and matching brick buildings. He sounded accusatory, harsh and angry. “And what did that  _accomplish_ , exactly?”  
  
The horizon was dipping and bobbing, but maybe that was just the pounding her head, the feeling of the ground turning liquid. Above her head, the buildings soared and squeezed at her.  
  
_I’d leave you here too_ , she thought, flicking her eyes briefly over to Tanner and then to Delphi before looking ahead again,  _if I could. If I didn’t need you. But I do, and I’m sorry for being so selfish._  
  
“You wouldn’t understand.”

* * *

Santalune was a picturesque city. It had towering brick buildings with stucco roofs of teal green shingles, multileveled and uniform, cookie cutter prints of themselves. The path was dotted with the occasional brick arch that towered overhead, allowed people to hide under them and bathe themselves in shadow, flowering vines of something that looked either ivy or morning glories yet to flower winding around the stone in a parasitic embrace. In the distance and towering above all the other buildings was a needle-like structure that boasted an aged bronze bell, indicative of old history, of a place that had been around for a long, long time and valued its heritage enough to keep the relic buildings of its founding. Now that Celestine thought about it, a lot of these buildings looked old—occasionally catching a wisp of ivy climbing up the side of the wall—if not immaculately maintained.  
  
Asphodel flowers lined green patches in the streets, bursting out of their stems like fireworks into six-pointed white flowers with rosy streaks dividing the petals, lovely bright colors that were eye-catching enough to be distracting. In contrast, potted planets that hung from what Celestine assumed were apartments were filled by bellwort, which possessed drooping, bell-shaped yellow blooms that hung like the stems were lowering themselves in shame. Downtown was busy and cluttered with rustic cafes, people walking around at leisure paces like they knew where they wanted to go but didn’t care how long it took to get there, like time was slow, syrupy thing that could bend to their will and they had it all at their fingertips. Almost everyone Celestine passed had a cup of coffee or a pastry in their hand, which really spoke to this region’s eating habits, didn’t it? But sometimes, when she peered through the buildings, she caught glimpses of green grass and tall trees likely a park of some kind. Some people were meandering in that direction, free and easy and without a care.  
  
Yes, Santalune was picturesque city, but it was also maze-like and bewildering, paths crisscrossing and feeding into each other, almost grid-like in its format. Every time Celestine made a turn, she felt like she was going in a circle and soon enough, she would either end up back where she’d begun or find herself in that park she’d been glimpsing earlier. After the fifth time of accidentally ending up in that damn park and finding herself glaring at the fountain in the center—a stylized marble structure set on a tiled dais, a Roselia statue with crystalline streams of water overflowing from its twin roses and a serene expression on its face—she was beginning to really hate this city.  
  
While Tanner continually offered to get an aerial view, Celestine had to remind him (constantly, the bird had the attention span of a goldfish) that his sprained wing kept that from being a viable option. She contemplated asking for directions several times, but she had a feeling that she went up to speak to someone, they would probably ignore her. So far, no one had singled her out or paid too much attention to her, and she was stuck trying to decide if that was because it was normal for Trainers to show up dishevelled after trekking through the Forest or if they thought she was homeless and they were trying desperately to pretend she didn’t exist, like they often did with subjects they didn’t like so much.  
  
Delphi was quiet. Had been since she’d fought with Shauna almost an hour ago. Celestine could tell he was anxious to get to the Center—he shouldn’t be, the Ball stasis was cutting edge tech that would preserve Ray’s physical condition right down to the very last molecule—but she could understand his concern, and was walking at a brisk pace out of her own concern for the Panpour’s wellbeing. His anxiety might also stem from the fact that he was out of Fire Aura, his bread and butter, and likely felt next to useless at the moment. It would be enough to make her anxious, if she were in his position.  
  
He was still in her arms, having not asked to go back on her shoulder, and she had yet to offer.  
  
She ended up in the park again, for a sixth time, and it was then that she had it. Gritting her teeth and stamping her left foot in frustration—bad idea, she was still standing on the cement path, so she’d probably just bruised the underside of her foot, fucking ouch—she allowed her gaze to rove the park for someone to ask for directions.  
  
Her eyes landed on a young man standing near the fountain, handing out flyers to passing pedestrians, and she frowned. She’d spotted him earlier, and his strange attire alone was enough to draw her attention—a white collared shirt and a black tie peeking out from a blood orange business suit, and sunglasses with frames and colored lenses that matched his blazer. But there was also the eagerness, the insistence with which he handed out flyers that bordered crazed and made her all the more skeptic of his presence, and what Tanner had said to her when she’d first spotted him.  
  
“He’s wearing the same color as those poachers who invaded the Route,” the bird had growled upon the stumbling into the park for the first time, eying the man distrustfully. “And he’s all sweaty. I don’t trust ‘im.”  
  
Celestine had ignored it at first, but now... The man rushed over to an otherwise oblivious couple and said something to them, body language agitated and waving a flyer at them. They each took one to pacify him and got the hell out of there.  
  
Huh.  
  
She tentatively made her way over to him. “Ah, excuse me?”  
  
The man turned to her and she instinctively flinched away from him. Even with sunglasses shielding his eyes, Celestine got the distinct feeling of a crazed glint in his eye. “Mademoiselle! Are you here to learn about Team Flare?”  
  
She blinked. “Team what now?”  
  
“Team Flare!” the man exclaimed loudly. He took a flyer from his stack—all of them the same gaudy orange like his suit—and waved it in her face. Celestine barely made out the words “Florence Lysandre For Prime Minister” in a rather festive font, but it all blurred into big black blurs from the way he was shaking it. “Every vote counts! Would you like to hear our policy?”  
  
“Policy?” Celestine repeated, bewildered. What was  _happening_?  
  
“Yes! All the things we’re going to change once Team Flare takes the office—improved economy, more jobs, and we’ll be sure to reign in the League, improve it! Dissolve conglomerates, establish universal healthcare, decrease poverty, you name it!”  
  
Celestine blinked again. She glanced down at Delphi, who looked absolutely slack-jawed, and then at Tanner, who was glaring at the man with the same persistent expression of distrust—then she looked back at the man and blinked a third time. “What the hell are you  _talking_  about?”  
  
The man paused, his mouth pulling into a tight frown. “Mademoiselle, are you not aware of the upcoming elections?”  
  
“The what now?”  
  
“Elections, mademoiselle! For Prime Minister and his cabinet! For power over the executive branch!”  
  
Celestine fixed the man with a blank stare. “I don’t know what any of that means.”  
  
“The election for Prime Minister! It’s held every four years!” the man said emphatically, shaking the single flyer around so violently it snapped around in the air. “Every vote is important, mademoiselle! Flare has limited power in the Senate and we need to snatch the position of Prime Minister up if we’re going to make real change! ‘We’re all striving to create a beautiful world’!”  
  
He looked at her expectantly. Celestine continued to stare blankly.  
  
“Come on! That’s out tagline!”  
  
“I... I don’t...”  
  
“Are you or are you not a Kalosian citizen?” he asked her urgently.  
  
Well, the law stated that citizenship was passed down if at least one of the parents possessed it—in the New Continent, anyway—and Celestine’s mother had been a naturalized Kalosian citizen. Celestine herself hadn’t technically received Kantonese citizenship until she applied for a Trainer’s license, but she’d kept the citizenship her parents passed down to her. “...technically, yes?”  
  
His face broke into a grin that was probably meant to be excited, but just came off as crazed and made Celestine want to flinch away. “Great! Then you can vote for Team Flare!” He thrust the flyer in her face. “Here! Help us put Florence Lysandre in office!”  
  
Celestine spluttered and batted the flyer out of her face. It fluttered to the ground, discarded, like a too-bright autumn leaf. “Hold on a sec! Look, I was just going to ask for directions to the Center—”  
  
“Are you saying you don’t  _want_  to vote for Florence Lysandre?” the man demanded, aghast, and his accent turned harsh and thick and that made him somehow menacing.  
  
Celestine felt her hackles rise, and she took a hesitant step back. The air around the man had changed to something more confrontational than she would have liked. “I—”  
  
“You would rather vote for some ignorant, selfish bigot than someone as benevolent as Monsieur Lysandre?” the man spat. “You would rather put  _Perrier_  and his gang of selfish dilettantes in charge of our great region?”  
  
“What—”  
  
“You cannot trust a man like that! Have you heard that he cheated on his wife, not once, but three times? With three different mistresses! The man can’t even be faithful to his own wife, and you’d trust him to run the region? My good woman, surely you realize that Monsieur Lysandre, a noted philanthropist who makes donations to a different charity each year and has funded many construction projects dedicated to housing the poor—and dedicates his time to volunteer at local soup kitchens and homeless shelters—is a  _much_  better candidate! He built Lysandre Corp from the ground up, oversaw the development of the HoloCaster and the improvements to the PC system, the invention of the Battle Box, funded the implementation of healing machines in poorer towns! Because of him, treatment centers were established in rural villages like Aquacorde! Pokémon Centers were founded in Camphrier and Ambrette! He has done so much good, and what has Perrier done? Had an illegitimate, Hoennian bastard by a cheap stripper who flunked law school.”  
  
She held her hand up in almost defensive way, trying to keep him at bay, to keep him from invading her precious personal bubble any more than he already was. Seriously, she was heavily resisting the urge to drop-kick him in the face. “That’s  _nice_ , but—”  
  
“Mademoiselle, how can I persuade you to vote for Monsieur Lysandre, and put Team Flare in its rightful position of power, where we can make the difference needed? As we speak, the world is becoming uglier and uglier, and at its core, Team Flare’s mission is to keep the beauty in this world from becoming lost forever.” The man waved his stack of blood-orange fliers urgently. “We must act before it’s too late! We—”  
  
“Excuse me, Monsieur,” came another voice to Celestine’s right, familiar and slightly condescending, and Celestine never thought she’d be so relieved to hear it. She turned just in time to see Calem approaching, his hair slightly mussed and a large blue amphibian perching on his shoulder that resembled Hayami slightly—the same white foam, blue color scheme, and rheumy yellow eyes, but larger and leaner and darker. His grey eyes were alarmingly neutral as he stepped between the man and Celestine, and flashed a placating smile. “If I may interject—I know this girl, you see, and she’s only seventeen, not of legal voting age. I’m afraid your passionate words will make no difference, either way.”  
  
The strange man deflated a little. “I see.” Then he perked up. “Are you—”  
  
“Also not of legal age, unfortunately,” Calem said, as if it were some great tragedy. He smiled, a little sadly, the kind of lovely smiles you saw on flyers for some unfortunate cause like cancer or lupis or something. The sort of smile that was sad but hopeful. Poster boy type. “I admire your ardor, though, monsieur. It seems as though Flare has quite an impressive backing.”  
  
The man puffed up in pride. “Well of course! Monsieur Lysandre is set on changing the world for the better!”  
  
“Oui, Monsieur. But your efforts are better spent elsewhere.” Calem glanced over at Celestine, his gaze unreadable, and Celestine felt the urge to bristle defensively. “Celestine here is new to the region and, even if she were of legal age, likely doesn’t understand how the government system in Kalos works. And even then, I don’t think she’s staying permanently.”  
  
The man cast Celestine a pitying look. “I see. My apologies, Mademoiselle. I must have dumped a lot of information on you.”  
  
“...yeah, little bit,” Celestine mumbled, somehow finding her voice. This whole situation was really starting to weird her out, now. Calem seemed to know what this fanatic was talking about, and was playing the part of concerned citizen to a tee. She couldn’t decide if that was a good thing or not, couldn’t decide whether this was sincere or him being a brilliant actor, and it unnerved her.  
  
“I’ll leave you two be.” And with that, the man went off to terrorize some other potential voters.  
  
Celestine turned to Calem, her shoulders knotted with tension that she couldn’t quite explain. It was a little thing, helping her wriggle her way out of a tricky situation, but it felt oddly intimating, letting him see her in a moment of weakness. Where Celestine had come from, weaknesses were often things you kept under lock and key, and letting the outward front of strength slip away was reserved only for those close to you, only when things grew uncomfortably intimate. “Um, thanks. For, uh. Whatever it was you did.”  
  
“No problem,” he answered noncommittally, allowing the façade of politeness to fade back into his usually indifference. He turned away from her to give his amphibian a loving rub on the back of its head. It had to be Hayami—evolved, maybe, but that begged the question of how she’d evolved so fast. “Don’t worry about him. It’s election season and lots of people get kinda… Well, like Unova and sports season, or I guess Kanto and Tournament season is an analogy you’ll understand.”  
  
She recalled Tournament season in Kanto and cringed. “Yikes.”  
  
He flashed her a sidelong look from his peripheral. “Yeah. Kalos is kind of a politician’s playground, and it stretches from every corner. Kinda surprising Flare would try to campaign in Santalune, though. The city’s notoriously conservative, and Flare is incredibly liberal.”  
  
“You know what’s  _really_  incredible? How democracy preaches freedom, but they make impossible for you to make your own decisions.”  
  
“Oh?”  
  
“Politics are literally the most unconceivably idiotic and convoluted thing in existence. Campaign speeches, slander, ridiculous infomercials. It’s like we’re being systematically brainwashed. The truth gets distorted and exaggerated to the point where you can’t tell what’s fact and what’s fiction.” To his bewildered expression, she fixed him with a flat look and shrugged. “Just goes to show the stupidity mankind involves itself in when it goes unmanaged.”  
  
Calem arched a brow, seeming amused by trying to hide it and largely succeeding, but it still showed through just a little. “Well,  _geez_. I’d call you a cynic but I think that’d be an understatement.”  
  
She shrugged again. “Sorry, but the ‘freedom’ associated with democracy doesn’t exactly agree with my definition. And besides—there wasn’t any politics in the League. We didn’t have to suffer through elections or campaigns. The only circus shows we had were actual circuses.”  
  
He hummed, turning to her fully. “But unless you have enough skill in battles to stand out from the crowd, you didn’t have much of a say, either.”  
  
“...fair point.” She brushed her hair out of her eyes. “But no system’s perfect.”  
  
He regarded her for a moment—not in a way that was judgemental or disdainful, or anything that might suggest prejudice of any kind, but it made Celestine’s skin prickle all the same. “You look like you just came out of the Forest,” he said after a minute.  
  
She shuffled awkwardly, feeling the air change. It was one thing to speak her mind when it came to Kalos vs Kanto. Every minute of every day, she was quietly cataloguing all the differences, and it was a little relieving to get it all out in the open. But casual conversations required thought and careful tiptoing around certain subjects, navigating potential landmines. Yeah, she’d rather be decapitated. Or... have someone attempt to decapitate her, because Aesith were unkillable. You get the idea. “Yeah, I, uh... Kinda did. Just today.”  
  
“Yeah, it shows.”  
  
Before Celestine could feel properly indignant about that remark, Delphi piped up from the cradle of her arms, “You wouldn’t happen to know where the Center is, would you?”  
  
Honestly, in all the confusion and with his body not emitting its natural warmth, she’d almost forgotten his presence, and was a little surprised to hear him speak. He normally didn’t stick his nose in—but there was a touch of anxiety in his tone that made her wonder if he was asking out of worry for Ray.  
  
“Certainly,” the amphibian answered in a voice that was very much like Hayami’s, only a little deeper and with more of a smoothness to it. “Take two rights, then a left, go straight for about twenty minutes, take a right, and there you are. We just came from there, actually.”  
  
“Arigato.” Celestine arched a brow at Calem. “Did Hayami evolve? I, uh—I ask because I have no experience with, ah, Kalos Pokémon. Like, whatsoever.”  
  
A smirk of self satisfaction curled his lips. Not a smug one, but one that appeared after a long period of hard work and dedication. They’d probably done a lot of training. “Yeah, just this morning. She’s a Frogedier now.”  
  
“It was necessary if we are to take on the Gym here,” Hayami said, holding her head a little higher. “The Gym Leader may go easy on beginners, but there is no such thing as being too careful.”  
  
Celestine arched a brow. “There’s a Gym in this city?”  
  
Calem eyed her warily, but nodded.  
  
“Huh.”  
  
“...are you thinking of challenging it?”  
  
At that, she shook her head and allowed a little chuckle. It was stale-sounding, empty and weak. “Oh,  _god_  no. Just nice to know where they’re located, though.”  
  
“Oh.”  
  
“Yeah.” The muscle in her left shoulder itched with the urge to fidget. The tension was so thick in the air you could cut it with a knife, listen to it scream and watch it bleed out between them. It was alive and suffocating. “I, uh, just want to check in and take a shower.”  
  
“And get that stick out of your hair, right?”  
  
“...what stick.”  
  
“The stick in your hair.” Calem gestured to the right side of his head, wincing sympathetically. “Right there. It looks a little like you’re growing a tree.”  
  
She shifted Delphi over to her other arm, and then reached out and groped the side of her head for a moment. Then, here, where her hair reached the base of her shoulders, she felt something hard and wooden. Flushing in embarrassment, she grabbed hold and took great care not to yank as she pulled it out—and lo and behold, there it was, in all its glory. A leafless, jagged-looking stick that had been embedded in her mane of tangled hair and sat there for who-knows-how-long, making her look like a homeless wild girl.  
  
She leveled Tanner and Delphi with a glare. “How the hell long has that been in there?” she demanded.  
  
“Since this morning,” Delphi answered guilelessly.  
  
“And  _neither_  of you thought to say anything?”  
  
“I thought it was a fashion statement,” Tanner said with a shrug. “I never know what you humans consider fashionable.”  
  
Celestine gawked at him.  
  
“Can I keep it?” Delphi asked shyly.  
  
“...what?”  
  
“The stick. Can I keep it?”  
  
“ _Why_?”  
  
Delphi blinked guilelessly. “‘Cause it’s a good-looking stick. Please?”  
  
Calem let out an amused snort, drawing Celestine’s attention back to him. Hayami gave him a light whack to the side of his head and a stern look.  
  
Celestine considered calling him out on it, but she decided against it. The last thing she needed was to worsen things, to add fuel to the fire. There was already  _enough_  complicating relations between them without thickening the tension, adding to the animosity.  
  
...speaking which.  
  
“Hey, um.” Awkwardly, she gave Delphi the stick, and he took it into his jaws with a contently wagging tail. She tried to look Calem in the eye, but her gaze kept sliding to his nose. This was so weird, so foreign and strange. “I...”  
  
“I’m sorry,” Calem blurted, and Celestine blinked in surprise. She had never thought him as being the first to break, and she would have stopped him, tried to get her own apology in—because she was the one who needed to apologize—but there was something in his eyes that made her pause.  
  
He pinched the bridge of his nose. “Look, I... I didn’t send Alistair after you or anything but... He pulls stunts like that a lot, and he probably had a grudge against you, so—I guess I should have seen it coming, but I was exhausted and had to put with Tierno’s snoring because Trevor wouldn’t let me back in the room, and I know that’s no excuse  _but_...” He paused, running his hand roughly over his face, and sighed heavily. “What I’m trying to say is, it’s partially my fault for not keeping him on a leash. If I’d been in your situation, I’d probably be humiliated.”  
  
“...yeah, well.” Celestine shrugged hopelessly, not sure what else to do. She felt like she should move, do something, instead of just standing there and doing nothing. “It was no excuse to react the way I did. The slap... was uncalled for.”  
  
“Is slapping in general uncalled for?” Tanner asked cautiously.  
  
“Depends on the situation,” she answered coolly, pinning him with a glare.  
  
The Pidgey huffed and ruffled his feathers, but said nothing.  
  
She turned back to Calem, her mouth suddenly dry. It was thick in the air, this tension. It pressed against her chest and against the back of her throat, heavy and tyrannical. It was a pregnant pause, one filled to the brim with a thousand words that she couldn’t articulate, a thousand ways to convey an apology that had yet to fully solidify in her mind. There had to be something she could do or say to erase it, to wipe the slate clean, but there was so much to say and no way for her to put it into words. It left like she’d swallowed too-big pieces of gum that had gotten lodged in her throat, and she couldn’t speak, let alone breathe, without the risk of gagging.  
  
But she’d told Shauna off for a reason, and maybe this discomfort was a necessary incentive to keep him as far away from her as possible. It was better that way, after all.  
  
“I don’t mean to be an alarmist,” Delphi piped up tentatively, “but we  _really_  need to get to the Center.”  
  
“Right!” She tried to construe her expression into something she hoped was apologetic. “Um, I gotta... yeah.”  
  
“I should be going too,” Calem said, voice a little strained. He scratched the back of his head absently, and Celestine wondered if he felt as awkward as she did. “Y’know, Gym battle and all.”  
  
“Right.” Celestine took a step to the side, removing herself from his path. She felt her ears starting to burn, because, god, this was kind of pathetic.  
  
He eyed her for a moment before stepping past. She could see the tension wrought in his shoulder, the way he tensed as he did so, as if expecting her to reach out and scratch him across the face. He was smart, she decided, to recognize danger where it was. It was more than Shauna, anyway.  
  
She should apologize. She should. It was the right thing. She was wrong, she knew she was. But the words weren’t coming out, trapped somewhere inside the endless alveoli and bronchioles of her lungs, damned to forever swirl around her airways and vocal chords. And she recalled the crimson splash of Ray’s blood on the dandelions, remembering that she had priorities of her own.  
  
She turned and began to leave.  
  
“Hey, Celestine?”  
  
Celestine stopped and looked back. Calem had stopped, too, and a warzone was taking place on his countenance, eyes flashing with some tentative but resolute. He opened his mouth as if to say something, hesitated, drew it into a thin line, and then repeated. For one awful moment, Celestine thought he was going to push and pry and try to rip the apology out of her.  
  
“Yes?” She tried to sound impatient enough to make him annoyed and leave in a huff. “Something you wanna say?”  
  
It seemed to have the desired effect, because he scowled. “I just wanted to make sure you remembered the directions to the Center.”  
  
“Right, right, left, straight for twenty minutes, and then right—did I get that correct?”  
  
“...yeah.”  
  
“Okay. Are we done here?”  
  
Calem’s brows furrowed at the curtness of her tone. “...I guess we are.”  
  
And he turned away.  
  
She bit her lip. Leaving things like this, no matter how much better it was in the long run, didn’t feel right.  
  
“Hey, Calem?”  
  
He glanced back at her.  
  
“Good luck on your Gym battle.”  
  
His expression softened, and he blinked in surprise. “...thanks.”  
  
“You’re welcome,” she said. “Even though I don’t think you’ll need it. You’re... you’re good.”  
  
His brows arched in surprise, but by then she had turned and started speed-walking away.

* * *

When Celestine thought of a Pokémon Center, she imagined a squat, one-story building with cherry red walls and a round, flat roof. It was a long structure, standing short but wide, more like an above-ground bunker than a medical building, with automatic sliding doors composed of translucent blue glass and a great window near the top that depicted the League’s symbol, indicating the government’s sponsorship. Apparently, the design was a remnant from the days of the Crimson War, when buildings needed to be strong enough to survive the explosion of bombshells and tunnels wormed their way underground, providing enough room to house over a thousand patients and staff each. The medical wing made up the entire aboveground, save for the lobby, while rental quarters and recovery rooms were located below. Of course, her experience with Centers was isolated to the one in Viridian, which had an immaculate lobby full of potted plants and a polished wooden counter and had a seemingly perpetual aroma of pine sap. She recalled rows of mint-colored PCs and video-phones along the left wall, a silver healing machine located just behind the front desk and the nurse’s station. As a young Trainer, eager to train and battle, Celestine had been in and out of the Viridian Center so often she knew the names of all the nurses and when their shifts began and ended. She never stayed below ground, though, into the winding tunnels of the Center’s rental quarters—a native from Viridian City with a home to go back to had no need to stay overnight at a hospital’s underground hotel—or had seen beyond the lobby, into the white inner workings of the hospital itself, but it still felt as familiar to her as the back of her hand.  
  
It was jarring, then, to stand outside a Kalosian Center and find it so different. The cherry red color hadn’t changed, nor the automatic sliding glass doors or the League symbol on a high up glass window—though it was slightly more stylized than Celestine recalled, but that was just the symbol of the New Continent Leagues—but instead of a squat, bunker-esque building, what she stood in front of was a tall, glossy  _tower_ , all shiny and new-looking and multileveled. A metal ring framed the roof, an emblem of a Poké Ball shining in the light. A great, half-cylindrical metal awning stretched out at the front, supported by columns that looked like they were glass but would have collapsed under the awning’s weight, and gave Celestine the impression that she was visiting a hotel rather than a medical center.  
  
“...is this normal for Pokémon Centers here?” she asked.  
  
Delphi looked at her like she was the one who had something wrong with her rather than the Center not looking the way it should. He had set his stuck down, keeping in place by folding his paws over it. The rough wood pressed against Celestine’s forearm. “Of course.”  
  
Right. Different region, different buildings.  
  
Right.  
  
She walked in.  
  
The interior was different, too. A half-circle reception desk made from a glossy red substance sat in the center of the interior, a stark contrast from polished white tile floors and powder blue walls, with a twitchy male nurse stationed behind it. Behind him, a healing machine rose up from the ground—not one of the state-of-the-art things Celestine was used to, the kind with rows and rows of Ball-holders that could perform emergency Aura-recovery on about six full teams at once, but rather a too-large, clunky-looking thing seemingly connected to an enormous electronic screen mounted to the wall just above it—and Celestine noted that it seemed as though the desk (two of them, actually) circled the column, making two healing machines and two on-duty nurses in total. To the left wall, a line of PC machines and outdated video-phones, all as crimson as the counters, were stationed, Trainers flocking to them to either withdraw boxed teammates or make quick calls to their loved ones (of course, while their HoloCasters charged). On the opposite wall, couches and benches had been set up, and a table with various pastries and what looked like a functioning Keurig sat in the corner. Several other Trainers were relaxing in this makeshift lounge, sipping their beverages or munching on their treats, chatting almost lazing. Celestine’s gaze slid to the back left, were the wall dipped into a pair of glass doors clearly marked “rental rooms”, behind which she could glimpse long corridors that reminded her of the rest stop she’d stayed at on the way here, all rich and warm colors that should have looked homey but were too new to pull it off correctly. At the back, a few elevators were stationed, gleaming grey metal, opening and closing periodically, people shuffling in and out in steady streams.  
  
Exactly opposite of was a small pocket tucked into the corner, blue instead of the usual red. A glossy blue desk was set up with two young men wearing that standard uniform of Poké Mart employees stationed behind it. Shelves of Trainer gear sat behind the pair, as well as an industrial-grade Storage Key, the kind that could tap into the PCs owned by companies and withdraw stock (thus eliminating the chemical degradation that would have happened if it just sat on some shelf in a warehouse somewhere). And behind that was a large electronic screen mounted to the wall, proudly broadcasting the Pokemon Mart, the slogan scrolling underneath.  
  
(This... didn’t make sense. Poké Marts were cheery little buildings with bright blue roofs and bright white interiors, with isles and isles of brightly-colored gear. Food packs, medical supplies, TMs, Poké Balls, digital mail, etc.. They were staffed by brightly smiling employees with cerulean aprons, not these bored men who were leaning over their desks, cheeks supported by fists. Poké Marts were separate buildings and, yeah, this may be more practical, but Celestine had fond memories of wandering through isles while Draco scampered across the top shelf, trying to not knock any of the merch off the shelves—)  
  
A faint buzzing from the base of her neck snapped her out of her reverie. Wincing, she massaged the spot— _stupid computer chip_ —and made her made her way to the nurse’s desk.  
  
She tapped on the counter. “Excuse me.”  
  
At the sound of her voice, the nurse jumped and straightened, an urgency in his eyes. Celestine arched a brow at this. Nurses usually didn’t react with such intense alarm to a Trainer showing up for a regular healing.  
  
“I’d like to have my Pokémon healed, please.”  
  
The nurse relaxed. “Of course. Their Balls, please.”  
  
Delphi leaped nimbly onto the counter, stick in his mouth, allowing Celestine to pull out her team’s Balls and set them down in front of her on the lacquered surface. She couldn’t help but noticed how red the counter was. How ironic that a hospital define itself by the color of blood.  
  
She pulled out her Trainer Card and set it down next to the row of dichromatic spheres. The nurse took said Card and swiped in on some machine beneath the counter, earning a satisfying ding.  
  
“Anything I should be looking for?” he asked as Celestine returned Tanner to his Ball and set it back down with the others. She grabbed Delphi’s Ball to do the same.  
  
Celestine’s brow arched higher. Not a question she usually got at Centers. Oh well, different region, different procedure. “Um, okay. Tanner—the Pidgey I just returned—he has a sprained wing that needs special attention. My Fennekin here is out of Aura, and my Panpour is in critical.”  
  
The nurse’s head snapped up. “Come again?”  
  
Her brows furrowed. Normally nurses were more professional, more impersonal. She pulled out her Trainer Card and placed “...the whole thing, or just that last part?”  
  
“You said your Panpour was in  _critical_?” the nurse asked incredulously.  
  
“That is what I said, yes.” Celestine recalled the incident—the blood and the Fletchling and Rinka—and snapped her fingers. “Which reminds me. Do you have a complaint form I can fill out?”  
  
“What?”  
  
“A complaint form. Against a Field Trainer?”  
  
The man blinked uncomprehendingly.  
  
“They’re called Class Trainers here,” Delphi supplied. He’d dropped the stick at his feet, tail curled around it protectively.  
  
Right. “Okay. I want to file a complaint against a  _Class_  Trainer.”  
  
“For what reason?” asked the nurse.  
  
Celestine frowned. “For putting my Panpour in critical.”  
  
He frowned back, his expression turning oddly hard. “Mademoiselle, if you are going to involve yourself in Reaper Battles, that is  _hardly_  your opponent’s fault.”  
  
Her frown deepened. There was a clear disdain in his tone, one that clearly showed his disapproval of Reaper Battles and all who involved themselves in them. “That’s the thing—this wasn’t a Reaper Battle. My opponent landed a condensed attack. I think I have a right to fill out a complaint form.”  
  
“You seem very calm about this,” the nurse said cautiously.  
  
Oh.  _Oh_.  
  
So  _that’s_  what it was.  
  
Celestine’s eyes narrowed. “Just because I’m not running around like a chicken with my head cut off doesn’t mean I’m not  _worried_  or  _concerned_. I happen to find being calm like this gets more done and increases my team’s chances of getting the help they need, and that’s something I’ve learned from a lot of time as a Trainer. I’m sorry if my experience comes off as sociopathic, but I’m more concerned with getting my team healed than receiving a stranger’s judgement.”  
  
Delphi looked stunned by this, but the nurse blinked slowly, unfazed. “You’ll have to forgive me, Mademoiselle...” The nurse stole a quick glance under the counter. “Lavieaux. But one of my jobs is to keep an eye out for and report potential Berserkers.”  
  
“If that’s the case, then let me file my report and I’ll get back to you.” Celestine pushed the four Poké Balls forward slightly. “In the  _meantime_.”  
  
The nurse’s mouth tightened. “Please return your Fennekin to its Ball, and I’ll get you that form.”  
  
“Ari _gato_ ,” Celestine said with strained politeness.  
  
The nurse turned, and Celestine grabbed Delphi’s Ball.  
  
“Can I keep the stick?” Delphi asked as she enlarged it.  
  
She cast him a blank look. “What is it with you and this stick?”  
  
He flattened his ears and averted his gaze. “...my evolutions utilize a stick for attacks. I just, kinda, figured I’d find one early and save it for, y’know, later.”  
  
Celestine paused. Delphi was young, naïve and inexperienced, his knowledge of the outside world likely sourced from books and stories but not real-world experienced. This had to have him reeling. Maybe obsessing over the stick was his way of distracting himself. Maybe talking about evolution was him thinking about getting stronger and trying to keep this event from repeating. But she didn’t know, because she didn’t know  _him_. Delphi was still an enigma to her, just as she was to him.  
  
_I promised to talk to him once we got here._  
  
She grabbed the stick and placed it in her bag. “There. We’re keeping it. Happy?”  
  
It hadn’t meant to come out as curt as it had, and it made Delphi wince. The nurse turned back to her and placed the form on the counter, a scowl on his face. Whether it was directed at her tone or he just generally disliked her, Celestine didn’t know. And, right now, she didn’t really care.  
  
Whatever. She returned Delphi and set his Ball down. The scowling nurse took her team without a word, turning his back to her as he loaded the Balls into the top tray of the healing machine to his left.  
  
Celestine scanned the form. Fairly standard. “Do you have a pen?”  
  
“No.” The nurse turned back to her and set her card down, hard enough for the plastic to make an audible snap when it hit the counter. He pushed it close to her, fingers blotting the picture ID. “I’m assuming you want a room?”  
  
“If at all possible, yes.” If she and Delphi were going to talk, it should be somewhere private.  
  
“Can’t rent you a room until you have at least one healing docked in the records,” drawled the nurse. He took his hand off her Card, allowing her to tentatively reclaim it.  
  
“...what?” That didn’t make a lick of sense.  
  
“It’s protocol, Mademoiselle. I can only assign you a room once your team is done healing.”  
  
Celestine frowned, pocketing her Card. “So I have to wait five minutes until I can rent a room?”  
  
“Twenty, actually.”  
  
Her eyebrows flew up. “ _Twenty minutes_  for a healing?”  
  
“One of your Pokémon is in critical,” the nurse said stiffly. “It’s going to take a while.”  
  
“In Kanto, that would take five minutes,” she blurted before she could stop herself.  
  
“This isn’t Kanto.” The nurse turned away. “There’s a lounge at the front where you can wait in the meantime. Take a buzzer. It’ll light up and vibrate when your team is done.”  
  
Celestine’s frown deepened and she turned her gaze to what looked like a ticket dispenser located to her right. Only the thing sticking out of the opening was black and plastic looking. She pulled it out, and it turned out to be a flashdrive-shaped piece of plastic, smooth and sleek, a red LED light located in the center that was currently off.  
  
She slipped it in her pocket, muttered a quick thanks, and turned away.  
  
“We hope to see you again,” the nurse called after her, bored and flat and with a tone that said he in no way hoped she would return.

* * *

**NEWS 4-09**

_"...and that concludes the second official debate between Team Flare candidate Florence Lysandre and Conservative candidate Wendell Perrier! And boy, was it fantastic! Both candidates put a fierce fight, but it's quite clear that the debate went to Lysandre. While is still a shocking notion grasp for more invested politicians that a grassroots organization like Team Flare could gain such a footing within a handful of months, and gain a following far greater than any of the two main parties, Lysandre has indeed achieved this, and doesn't that just say something about his leadership abilities? Not only this, but he also beat out the head Liberal candidate, Arlette Lennox, for a spot on the ballet. Surely a man that can pull off such an impressive, formerly thought impossible, feat, would make him a shoe in for Prime Minister! And given the sheer positivity of their message and Lysandre's superior eloquence, perhaps it's not so surprising after all._  
  
_"Sadly, however, no great cause is without its naysayers, and Lysandre is not a man without critics. Many petty opponents and paranoid conspiracy theorists point to rumors of poachers bearing Flare's colors and of labs funded by Lysandre Corp performing classified research, claiming corruption or some conspiracy involving human experimentation,. Lysandre himself has publicly denied these claims and any investigation into these accusations have proved them baseless. The simple fact is that there is simply no evidence to back up these claims, and it makes the people who cling to them look stupid and ignorant. Likely, these people only slander him because of his status as an—_  
  
_"Oh! There's Lysandre now! He has such a presence about him. So regal, and almost intimidating, in a sense. Reminds of my Pyroar a little— Aaaand he's gone. Damn. I wanted an interview. Oh well. I'm told he doesn't like unscheduled interviews anyway... Any attempts to catch him off-guard so far have failed, and likely won't succeed anytime soon. Still, it'd be nice to actually sit down and talk to him. Lysandre, for all his virtues, is a very private person, and he doesn't exactly flaunt his personal life. In fact, a few of his colleagues claim not to see him outside of the office at all._  
  
_"Well, that's all for day. This is Malva Rousseau, NEWS 4-09, signing off. Back to you, Steve!"_

* * *

The air was thick with cloying white steam, vaporous swirls condensing on the mirror and turning it into a foggy sheet in which reflections warped and distorted, when Celestine turned off the nozzle. Her skin felt raw from where she’d scrubbed off layers of dirt and mud, her normally porcelain complexion stained lightly with a faint shade of red, both from friction and from the heat.  
  
Celestine grit her teeth against the chill that instantly invaded her skin once the steady stream of hot water disappeared. Grabbing her hair and winding it into a long black rope, she rung it out, let warm water dribble down in rivulets along her skin, and then threw it back over her shoulder. She couldn’t tolerate the feel of air against the back of her neck too long without risking an outbreak of hives—and that in itself was a disaster.  
  
Speaking of which.  
  
Her thumb brushed a small lump at the base of her neck, where a surgeon had made an incision while she’d been heavily sedated and implanted a small black chip into a cavity that had been drilled into her collar bone. That was the only indicator, no, no scar to mark the spot. Aesith didn’t scar. Their wounds healed instantly and any lost blood volume was miraculously restored. The only enemy of an Aesith was time—enough time to wear the body down to the point where even supernatural healing couldn’t stop flesh and bone from giving out.  
  
But that was besides the point.  
  
With a sigh, Celestine emerged from the bathroom wrapped in a towel. The room that the Center had given her felt too sterile, the colors too bright and the bedsheets pressed too cleanly, and it gave her the impression that the housekeeping staff also doubled as the nurses. No one else could pull off such perfect hospital corners.  
  
_Maybe that’s where that expression comes from_ , she thought with some amusement as she sat down on the bed.  _From the beds at the Pokémon Center._  
  
The bed sat in the center, small enough for one person but no more. Beyond that, a nightstand made of dark, polished wood that was home to a lamp with a none-too-appealing beige lampshade and a white ceramic pot of aloe vera, of which there was no doubt in Celestine’s mind stood for something meaningful. She’d long ago stopped caring, though, about flowers and their meanings, ever since that visit to Route One where she’d been forced to endure Kalosian traditions she’d never heard of. Fact: Celestine may have Kalosian blood, but she was Kantonian by birth and proud of it. No amount of floral patterns on the carpets—which this room had, by the way—or wallpaper striped by little purple and yellow flowers was going to change that, nor spark her interest in the “language of the flowers”, so to speak.  
  
To the left wall, opposite to the main door, was a single window framed by gauzy white curtains that she’d promptly drawn closed upon her arrival. With no other source of light, save for the lamp and the lights in the ceiling that were currently off, the room had been bathed in shadow, and Celestine preferred it that way. Alone and in the dark... it was sad to say how comforting that was, despite how much it reminded her of  _that place_...  
  
The only thing truly cheery about the room—cheery enough to disrupt the mental image of  _that place_ —was a gift basket she’d somehow won when she’d asked for her Pokémon to be healed. Apparently, there had been a raffle going on, and a routine healing was the ticket to entering. There had been some indicator in the buzzer Celestine had grabbed that crowned her the unknowing winner, and before she could fully process what had happened, the nurse had shoved a gift basket so large she could barely walk straight holding it into her arms and sent her to her room. The very sight of it made her cringe at how utterly  _tacky_  it was—now she had a basket of woven, glittery pink wood, wrapping in a sheet of plastic and volumous, glossy ribbons that looked like they belonged in the hair of some beauty pageant candidate. The contents were just as teeth-rotting, but in a less aesthetic way, bags of sugary sweets of all varieties, including about four cases of what appeared to be a dozen glazed cakes, a dozen or so eclairs wrapped up in decorative tissue paper, a shiny box of high-end chocolates, and a stylized tin of Turkish delights, just to name a few. If Celestine had more a sweet-tooth, she’d have been delighted, but she didn’t, so she wasn’t. The whole display looked like it belonged inside Shauna’s wardrobe, and she’d dumped on her bed before going off to immerse herself in a steamy ablution.  
  
She spared it a sidelong glance. The sequins on the ribbons reminded her of Shauna’s shirt, and unbidden, Celestine thought of mocha pigtails and caramel skin and eyes the color of mint candy that brimmed with hurt. She thought of how protective she’d been that day in the school when she’d confronted Calem—  
  
Celestine stood up to get dressed and banished the thoughts from her mind, the words  _for the best_  repeating in her head like a busted tape reel. She could not afford getting too attached to potential casualties.  
  
She failed to notice how the drapes fluttered ever-so-slightly, as if in a faint breeze, despite the fact that the window had been firmly closed and latched when she’d entered the bathroom.  
  
It wasn’t until she was half-dressed that she noticed the draft and frowned. She turned to the window and tentatively brushed the curtains back—and that window had definitely not been open when she’d first come in.  
  
Frowning deeper, she pulled it closed and drew the curtains again. At least no one had gotten a glimpse of her bare upper torso...  
  
She was slipping a shirt over her head when she heard what sounded like rustling plastic coming from behind her.  
  
A shiver ripped its way down her spine and with lightning speed, she pulled her shirt down and whirled around, prepared to face either a pervert or an attacker—  
  
—and there was this big, yellow, bulbous  _thing_  on her bed, currently working at tearing the plastic wrapping off her gift basket with big, meaty... well, they weren’t paws, per se, but they were large and clumsy-looking and they pawed at the plastic in a vain attempted to breach it. The thing must have felt Celestine’s attention on it, because it stopped and turned slowly to fix her with a pair of rheumy, too-big eyes and a blank stare that made Magikarp look like geniuses in comparison. She took one look at the enormous, pale bill that swallowed half its face and webbed feet, the oily-looking yellow feathers that lined its body and the stubby, vestigial tail that poke out of its backside—and her frown morphed into a bewildered scowl.  
  
What the  _hell_  was a Psyduck doing in her room?  
  
Hesitantly, a wide smirk appeared on the Water-Type’s bill, completely overshadowing the once-blank expression. “Well, bonjour, Mademoiselle. I didn’t see you there!”  
  
“No  _kidding_ ,” Celestine said flatly. “What are you doing in my room?”  
  
“Well, it’s clearly been a mix up,” the Psyduck said jauntily, and it struck Celestine just how eloquent—he? The voice had a masculine pitch, so she assumed male—it was. Normally, Psyduck spoke slowly, their sentences punctuated by periodic winces of pain when their headaches bothered them. The latent Psychic aura a Psyduck possessed was incompatible with its Water-Typing, and that resulting in an irregular flow of aura that built up inside the skull and created a chromic pressure that could hinder long-term development. It was why Psyduck Trainers paid top-dollar for experimental pharmaceuticals in order to ease the pressure, a temporary solution while they raced to evolve their Psyduck before the damage became too permanent. She had, however, heard of this one medicinal remedy straight out of Cianwood Island that could indefinitely relieve headaches—by alleviating the irregularity of the aura flow, apparently, and rumor had it that Psyduck treated by that medicine produced more efficient Psychic attacks—and other such ailments, the recipe of which was unknown and enigmatic but famous nonetheless. But that wasn’t the point. The point was, most Psyduck were not so well-spoken, not when Psychic pressure was constantly pushing against their skulls. “My sincerest apologies, Mlle. I hadn’t realized this room was occupied. I’ll just be going then—”  
  
“That doesn’t answer my question— _what are you doing in my room_?”  
  
“Again,” the Psyduck tried placatingly, only for the scowl on Celestine’s face to deepened, “I did not know it was occupied.”  
  
“Stop dancing around the question and  _fucking answer_.”  
  
“A lady should not use such deplorable language—”  
  
Celestine began to charge over, and the Psyduck flinched back in alarm, scrambling backwards.  
  
“Alright, alright!” The Water-Type held his arms out defensively, and she stopped, eying him distrustfully. “Look, I spied the basket through the window, and I’m  _ravenous_ —”  
  
Celestine crossed her arms. “So you thought you could just thought you could come in here and steal food?”  
  
The Psyduck winced “I didn’t think anyone was around—”  
  
“And that somehow makes it okay?”  
  
“I— I’m  _starving_ , Mlle. I haven’t had a decent meal in almost two weeks.”  
  
She frowned and took a closer look at the Psyduck. Now that she was up close, she realized the duck actually was thin—he lacked some of the pudge that she’d often come to associate with Psyduck and their kind, and there were shallow ruts on his upper torso that were consistent with a ribcage. There was a sallowness in his bill and feet that looked didn’t look none too healthy, and his coat of feathers looked tarnished and dull—more so than was normal for a Psyduck. This was clearly a Pokémon that had fallen on hard times.  
  
“...you could have just asked,” Celestine grumbled.  
  
The Psyduck blinked. “Excusez-moi?”  
  
She huffed and thumped down on the bed hard enough for the springs to creak and for the gift basket to bounce lightly. The ribbon-knot was tight and weirdly elaborate, but it fell apart effortlessly to Celestine’s slender, prying fingers, and the plastic and ribbons fell away like the delicate calyx of a blooming flower, revealing the gorgeous petals underneath.  
  
The Psyduck salivated as Celestine took one of the éclairs, a long stick of fluffy bread glazed with chocolate, and unwrapped it. She made a move to hand it over, and the Psyduck reached out, all too eager, but Celestine pulled it back at the last moment.  
  
“First off,” she said calmly, ignoring the blaze of dismay that entered the Water-Type’s expression, “where did you come from?”  
  
“Oh, s’il vous plaît, Mlle. Have some mercy.”  
  
“You can have food after you answer my question.”  
  
“Why can you not just—”  
  
“Because if earlier was an indication, you know how to dance around a question, and I have no patience when it comes to ducks breaking into my room.” Celestine broke off a piece of éclair—only to grimace when a creamy yellow filling, probably a custard of some kind, dribbled onto her fingers. Um, ew. “Each time give me a satisfying answer, I give you a piece of eclair. Deal?”  
  
“Éclair.”  
  
“What?”  
  
“You pronounce it ‘éclair’, Mlle.” The Psyduck paused at her glare. “Excusez-moi, that’s just me being pedantic.”  
  
“...whatever.” She wasn’t about to admit she didn’t know what “pedantic” meant. “Now, again, where did you come from?”  
  
“Mmm... that’s complicated.” The Psyduck crossed his arms and looked thoughtful. “You see, until recently, I was under the guardianship of a linguistics professor who was intent on decoding the wild tongue. He lived on an old house just outside the city, more a part of the Route than Santalune. It was because he was looking for participants, he said. I used to live on the Route until I decided to stay with him permanently. His cooking was much better than anything you’d find out in the wild, and he helped me with my headaches. And... he grew on me. He was a nice man, very generous. Learned a lot from him, by the by, about eloquence and articulation and all that.”  
  
“The  _point_.”  
  
The Psyduck arched a brow calmly. “Rather impatient, aren’t you?”  
  
Celestine chose not to dignify that with a response.  
  
“Long story short, Mlle, my professor was well into his elder years when I met him, and only aged as more time passed.” And here, the duck began to sound a little sad. “Heart attack—he didn’t make it. It was a lovely funeral. His students and colleagues waxed poetic about him. His family, not so much. He was a bit of recluse, and a widower at that, and they all gossiped about the strange man who lived outside the city. I, his only companion throughout the years. When he passed, his contentious granddaughter took the house and kicked me out onto the street. Now I’d been born wild, sure, but that was over a decade ago. I’m ashamed to admit that I’ve become a bit... tame. So, rather than risk myself back in the Routes, I headed for the city, and here I am.”  
  
She hummed and held out the piece she’d torn off the éclair for the Psyduck to take. He grabbed it and snapped it up before she could even blink. Geez, he  _must_  be hungry. Celestine tore off another piece, mindful of the custard filling. “Okay, did this professor give you a name?”  
  
“No, but he let me choose my own. I liked ‘Tyler’ especially.”  
  
He snapped up that next piece even more quickly than the last, and with an appreciative moan. It wasn’t the most important question Celestine could have asked, but, hey, no one could say she didn’t have a heart.  
  
“Did he ever finish his work? This professor of yours?”  
  
Tyler shook his head sadly. “Struck down just as he was on the verge of completion. I wouldn’t be surprised if his granddaughter had thrown away his papers by now—or took credit for herself.”  
  
Celestine bit her lip to keep herself from commenting on the tragedy of that. She handed off the piece of pastry and tore off another one. “Okay. So then you’re over ten years old?”  
  
“Twelve now, Mlle.”  
  
Another piece of éclair. Celestine made sure the next chunk she tore off was larger than the last two. “I’m seventeen myself,” she said absently.  
  
Tyler was licking custard filling off his fingers. “Ah, the age of consent. Fabulous.”  
  
Celestine blinked. Then blinked again. “What.”  
  
Tyler shrugged. “It’s true.”  
  
“...why do you even know that?”  
  
“My professor’s quarrelsome granddaughter had an unfortunate career as an adult film star.” The Psyduck shrugged. “I would occasionally browse her work.”  
  
“ _Why_?”  
  
“Because I found it quite entertaining,” Tyler said noncommittally.  
  
Before it could properly sink in that Celestine was alone in a room with a perverted duck, she picked up an odd vibrating noise from nearby. She was pretty sure she’d returned the buzzer she’d taken from the front desk. Her gaze slid to the nightstand next to her bed, though, she homed in on the source—the Poké Ball Chain she’d taken with her from Kanto, a nifty little device that allowed Trainers to keep their teams all in one place. It was exactly what it sounded like, a rather plain-looking metal chain with six slots to hold six Poké Balls. Currently, only four of those slots were filled on the one Celestine owned, and the first slot was the one that was vibrating.  
  
She exhaled through her nose.  _Delphi._  
  
Celestine scooted past Tyler, handing him both pieces of the éclair, and grabbed the chain. Though simple in appearance, Ball Chains were actually infused with a technology that kept the Balls in their shrunken form, on account of how Pokémon tended to pop out of their Balls when agitated enough. Studies showed that, similar to coma patients had some perception of their surroundings, certain things transcended the containment of the metal sphere, and Pokémon were slightly conscious even during stasis. The vibrating Ball was a sure sign of agitation and, had Delphi not been trapped by the Chain, she was sure he would have burst out already. She didn’t need to touch it to know it was hot.  
  
_I did promise I’d talk to him, didn’t I?_  
  
“Are you a Trainer, Mlle?” Tyler asked through mouthfuls of éclair.  
  
“Yup.” Her thumb found the released button on the slot with Delphi’s Ball. “I’m actually about to talk to my starter, so if you don’t mind...”  
  
“Mais bien sûr.” There was a rustling sound and Celestine spied the duck snatching a few more éclairs from the gift basket and hopped off the bed, landing with a dull thump. “I’ll be in the bathroom if you need me.”  
  
“I won’t,” she muttered as the duck’s yellow form vanished and the bathroom door closed. Whatever. She could worry about what to do with the Psyduck in her bathroom in a minute. First—damage control.  
  
Celestine pressed the release button. The Ball fell out and enlarged almost instantly, splitting open. In a brilliant flash of light, Delphi was on the bed, sitting back on his hunches, ears twitching, and his face drawn into an irritated countenance that made Celestine suppress an amused smile. It  _so_  didn’t suit him.  
  
“We’re going to talk now, right?” he asked, slightly impatient.  
  
“I said we would.”  
  
“Good. Because I have lots of questi—” He stopped, suddenly, and sniffed the air. His investigation of the foreign scent led him to the gift basket, which he stared at with a strange sense of awe. “Are those Poké Puffs?”  
  
“Maybe?” She shrugged. “I have no idea.”  
  
“I  _love_  Poké Puffs. Especially the cinnamon ones. Oncle used to get them all the time, but he’d reserve those ones for special occa—” Delphi shook his head suddenly, the wistful expression in his eyes snapping back to a serious one as he turned back to her. “Nope. You are  _not_  gonna distract me.”  
  
Against her will, her lip quirked into a half-smile. Delphi’s eyes narrowed at the sight of it.  
  
“Okay, what?”  
  
“Nothing.” Celestine scooted closer to him, and then lied back against the headboard. She pushed the gift basket off to the side for more room, listening to the crinkle of plastic as it slid across the bedsheets, guided by the repulsive motion of her hand. “Go on.”  
  
“With what?”  
  
“The interrogation. Ask anything you like, and I shall answer to the best of my ability.”  
  
He eyed her skeptically “...are you making fun of me?”  
  
“No.” She arched a brow. “What makes you say that?”  
  
“You’re being weirdly calm. And kinda... cheeky.”  
  
Her brow arched higher. “Would you rather I be defensive and antagonistic?”  
  
“Um, well, not really.”  
  
“Then ask away.”  
  
Delphi eyed her skeptically again, but then he turned away, his features merging into something more pensive. He was probably thinking of questions to ask her. And Celestine pulled her knee up to her chest, tapping her finger on her kneecap, waiting.  
  
He turned back to her. “Why are you in Kalos?”  
  
“Complicated,” she answered flatly.  
  
He waited, and when she didn’t elaborate, he frowned. “Hey, you said you’d answer every question!”  
  
“I didn’t say  _every_  question. And I said I’d answer to the best of my ability.”  
  
“So... you don’t know why you’re in Kalos? Or are you just refusing to answer?”  
  
Celestine shifted her gaze to the opposing wall directly in front of her. The flowery patterns were looping, like vines. Delicate. Childish, almost.  
  
She heard Delphi huff. “Geez, no one said having a Trainer would be so much  _work_.”  
  
Her lip twitched, but she refused to let herself smile.  
  
He sighed. “Fine. How about this—what was with that...  _thing_  that happened at the rest stop? In the bathroom?”  
  
The  _thing_. The freak out in the bathroom where she’d hallucinated demonic shapes trying to drag her into the Netherworld. Made sense he’d ask about it. That wasn’t exactly something someone forgot about so easily.  
  
Despite having prepared herself for that particular topic of conversation, Celestine still sighed and leaned her head back against the solidness of the headboard, turning her gaze up to the blank ceiling. She tried to think of a way to explain it without scaring him too much.  
  
“Well, it’s...” At the sound of a little growl emerging from Delphi’s throat, she hesitated at the word  _complicated_  and broke off into another sigh. She ran a hand roughly over her face, buried fingers in her bangs. “Okay. Okay. I had a weird drug in my system, and when I get stressed, it does weird shit to my body.”  
  
Delphi bristled in alarm. “You take drugs!?”  
  
“What?” She turned back to him, her bewildered expression mirroring his. “No. God, no. I didn’t...” She bit her lip and looked back at the ceiling. “I didn’t  _want_  to take it. I was  _forced_  to. Someone—they, um,  _put it_  in me, I guess.”  
  
“You guess?” Delphi asked hesitantly.  
  
“Well, more like I got forcibly injected.” Realizing what she’d said too late, she winced. “But that sounds kinda... gruesome, so, I tried to avoid saying it. Yeah...”  
  
She caught a glance at him from her peripheral. Delphi’s gaze was still quizzical, but the skeptical edge had given way to an undercurrent of concern. “Someone... drugged you.”  
  
“Yes.”  
  
Concern was starting to overpower curiosity. “When was this?”  
  
“Like, a month ago, at least.” Celestine bit her lip, still refusing to look at him directly. “Not entirely certain on the time perimeters, because it’s really potent at the beginning. It causes hallucinations and stuff, but. Yeah, it, it stays in your system for a long time—it should be gone by now, though.”  
  
“What kinda drug does that?”  
  
_The kind no one knows about_ , she thought.  _The kind that, hopefully, no one will ever know about._  
  
“Anything else?” Celestine asked, a little too quickly.  
  
Delphi must have sensed her desire to change the topic, because he tilted his head thoughtfully. “...what made you want to be a Trainer?”  
  
“In general, or in Kalos?” she dared to ask. This was pressing dangerously close to the first question, the one she’d refused to answer and had no intention to.  
  
“Both, I guess.”  
  
Celestine was about to respond, but she heard the bathroom door creak open and sat up in a blink. Tyler the Psyduck poked his head out, bill slathered faintly with custard. Delphi blinked, bewildered at his Trainer’s reaction, and followed her gaze to the Water-Type. Immediately, the Fennekin leaped into a battle stance and bristled, flattening his ears back and baring his teeth.  
  
“Whoa!” She placed a hand on Delphi’s head and run in down his spine, all the way to his tail-tip in one fluid stroke. She repeated the process, again and again, until the hostility had vanished from her Starter’s posture. “Easy. This is Tyler. He’s harmless.”  
  
Tyler waved, unashamed, his bill curved into a shit-eating grin. “Bonjour, mon bon renard.”  
  
“Trainer,” Delphi said, allowing his ears to perk back up.  
  
“Yes, Delphi?”  
  
His right ear twitched. “I have more questions.”  
  
“He snuck into the room for food,” Celestine explained, leaning back against the headboard again. “His old owner died and he was out on the street and hungry. But you wanted to talk, so I told him to wait in the bathroom.” And here, she cast Tyler a glare. “Where he said he’d give us  _privacy_.”  
  
“A thousand apologies,” Tyler said, still with that shit-eating grin. “But these walls are rather thin and I could make out a few things—drugs and all.”  
  
“Yipee.”  
  
Delphi turned to her. “Is he joining the team?”  
  
Celestine’s brows furrowed. “What? No. Why?”  
  
“Well, he’s out first encounter.”  
  
“In a city.”  
  
“Cities count.”  
  
“They do not.”  
  
“Ask Mlle Devereux,” Delphi said. “Or Oncle, for that matter.”  
  
Celestine tossed a glance from Tyler, to Delphi, to her bag, which she’d thrown into the corner for later, rinse and repeat. Her Caster was in her bag, and Hakase’s number was on her Caster. All it would take was a quick click and a few seconds for the connection to link up, for the image of Hakase and his lopsided smirk as he waxed poetic and referred to her in the affectionate  _ma chérie_ , while she tried to pretend that it was just his accent slurring his words and she would probably smell alcohol on his breath if she were there in person, pretend that he didn’t look at her and see a dear, dear friend whom he’d lost, with whom Celestine held an unfortunate likeness to. And all the while she’d have to smile and pretend this was all okay, that they won’t both pining for the same person that they would both never see again.  
  
She got to her feet and walked over to grab her bag. But it was for a Poké Ball that she reached for, not her Caster, and then she slung her bag over her shoulder.  
  
“We’ll go to this Route outside the city and catch him there,” she said as she came back over to collect her Chain. She didn’t look at either of Delphi or Tyler as she clipped the Chain to her belt and headed for the door.

* * *

It took asking for directions twice before Celestine properly found her way to Route Twenty-Two, and by the time she got there, she could properly appreciate the irony of this Route having the same name as the infamous liaison to Victory Road back in Kanto.  
  
Route Twenty-Two was an echo of its Kantonian sister, with steep, sloping cliffs dyed green with wild grasses and flora of all kinds. Trees rose up in a parapet on the northern mountainside, pines and firs and other such deciduous arbor creating a great wall against the horizon, and a wide expanse of thick grasses divided the woods from the rest of the Route almost like a fence to ward off the wilder parts. The cliffside was jagged, grey and sharp and stony, save for the bursting tufts of alpine grasses that came out like gophers popping their head out for a breath of spring. Upwards—that was the direction the brown, rocky path wound as it carved into the mountainside, bounding and dipping in an irregular manner, climbing up looming hills in the distance where the air pressure was likely to change with the increase in altitude. Even standing under Santalune’s pearly white gate, Celestine could recognize that as she allowed her eyes to trace the path, remembering when, in her youth, she'd dared to hop up the cliffs until her ears started to ache from the change in air pressure (and then Draco would chide her for being so careless). In the distance, the wilderness coalesced into a great mountain range that rose like the back of some slumbering beast, somnolent but daunting all the same, its spine steep and arching and dark against the cerulean sky. It was dark with trees and forests, with life and death and the natural order, this shadowy, mysterious thing that no one could properly understand. That’s what Celestine thought when she looked at the great expanse that unraveled before her, at the clash between verdant green and earthy brown.  
  
From the side of cliff-face, a gaping hole gushed forth frothing water that crashed down into the river below in a glittering white curtain, churning up a cloud of mist so dense that Celestine couldn’t see through it even while squinting. The river ran shimmering crystal blue as it wound through the valley, likely cutting through the Santalune Forest and eventually becoming La Rivier over in Aquacorde. Even staring down at it from the gate, Celestine could hear the powerful rush of the waterfall as it flowed perpetually, carried down from some far-off mountain spring or some other source, and she could make out the slickness of the nearby stones, the result of constantly being bathed in mist from the downpour. A few yellow shapes moved around on the shore of the river, shapes that, Celestine decided, were probably native Psyduck like Tyler.  
  
“Ah, home sweet home,” Tyler announced with a hint of fondness. He waddled out in front, taking in the wildness of the Route with a slow, lingering gaze that betrayed nostalgia. “Professor Garnier’s cabin is a few miles off. You won’t see it from here.”  
  
Celestine breathed in deep as she passed the border, stepped out of the city and into the wild. The alpine air was clean, crisp, and it burned her lungs a little as it slid into her bronchioles. Delphi trotted in pace with her, but again, she envisioned a scaly Charmander with more experience than her current Starter, with calmer eyes that were not overwhelmed and awestruck by the landscape.  
  
“So cool,” Delphi murmured. She hardly heard him.  
  
Celestine’s gaze found its way to something that glittered in the mountainside, something that sent the gamut of hues dancing through the air like a prism. The polychromatic sparkle burned against her corneas and she had to look away for a moment, blinking.  
  
“What’s with the weird sparkly thing in the distance?” she asked Tyler.  
  
“Hm?” Tyler followed her gaze. “Oh, that. That’s the Gate to Victory Road.”  
  
“Wait, really?” It was located on Route Twenty-Two in Kalos, too?  
  
Tyler nodded sagely. “Oh yeah. It’s gilded, you see. Rumor has it that it took them almost a month to line it with gold, but it was worth it for it to look as stunning as it does now. And then they put in all sorts of gemstones and murals, so it looks absolutely  _breathtaking_  up close. From afar, you can see it for miles on a sunny day. And they polish it, daily, to keep it that way.”  
  
Celestine hummed. In her mind’s eye, she saw the Victory Road Gate in Kanto, not golden or jeweled as its sister in Kalos supposedly was, but a great monument carved straight into the mountainside, gray stone fashioned into stylized pillars and carvings. And to the side, just as you plunged into the dark expanse of the inner chasm, there was a side of the wall with the etchings of previous Trainers who had done the same, who had collected eight Tohjo badges and had carved their names into the stone for eternity. It was a tribute to all those who came before, and a place for those who followed to gain an immortality that outlasted even the digital records of the Hall of Fame.  
  
She wondered if Kalos’s was anything like that, if the sight of it could still the breath in your lungs and make your knees feel weak.  
  
“Celestine!”  
  
Celestine started. Oh, shit, she knew that voice.  
  
She turned and, yup, that was Tierno wading through the tall wild grasses. He was still far off, and she was sure that if she made a run for it now, she was likely to lose him in the city, in the crowds and the buildings.  
  
Tierno waved jauntily as he came closer, and oof, there goes that plan. There was a cordial smile stretched across his face. “Hey! I  _thought_  that was you!”  
  
Celestine felt her joints lock up instinctively with the urge to flee. She tried to smile but it felt, and probably looked, strangled. “Yeah. Um. Hi.”  
  
“Hey,” he said, coming to a stop and looking a little breathless. He was still smiling, all happy and blissfully carefree. “Glad I caught you.”  
  
“Really?” she asked warily. “Why’s that?”  
  
“Uh.” Tierno blinked at her, his cheeriness faltering. “I wanted to talk to you?”  
  
“Are you always this paranoid, Mlle?” Tyler asked.  
  
Delphi sighed. “You have  _no_  idea.”  
  
Before Celestine could feel properly indignant, Tierno turned to the Pokémon and knelt down. “Oh, hey! You got a Psyduck!”  
  
She opened her mouth to respond, but Delphi beat her to it. “Well, we’re actually adding him to the team now.”  
  
“Indeed,” said Tyler. “And I feel quite honored to be joining a team managed by such a beautiful young lady.”  
  
A shudder crawled down Celestine’s spine.  
  
Tierno, oblivious to Tyler’s perverted tendencies, stood back up with a smile. “Psyduck are good additions, though. They’ve got solid stats and some awesome Psychic abilities.”  
  
Celestine fixed him with a flat look. “I know. I’m a Kanto native. So are Psyduck.”  
  
“...right.” Tierno scratched the back of his head, and for the first time, he looked awkward. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to— Sorry.”  
  
“It’s... fine.” It wasn’t, but she could let it go.  
  
Tyler cleared his throat. “Excusez-moi, don’t mean to interrupt—I do get my Ball, yes?”  
  
Celestine pulled out a Ball and tossed it at the Psyduck. He caught it easily. “Go nuts.”  
  
“So, uh.” Tierno was still scratching the back of his head. “What brings you here?”  
  
“The Psyduck,” Celestine said flatly.  
  
“Right, um—”  
  
“Trainer,” Delphi piped up. “Tyler’s in his Ball.”  
  
Celestine glanced down at her Starter, finding that the Psyduck was gone and a Poké Ball was resting in his place. She sighed, bending down to pick it up and then clip it to her Chain.  
  
“Okay, well, it was nice running into you.” She offered Tierno another strangled smile. “I think I’m going to head back to the Center, now.”  
  
“Oh! I’m heading back there, too,” Tierno said, and Celestine winced internally. So much for trying to ditch him. “Wanna walk back together?”  
  
_Quick. Think of a reason why not._  
  
“Sure!” Delphi exclaimed.  
  
_Dammit, why?_  
  
“Great!” Tierno grinned blindingly.  
  
And Celestine could do nothing but offer up that strangled, cringey smile and go with it.

* * *

The walk was probably meant to be leisurely, but it was anything but. Tierno was delightful and engaging and amicable, everything a good conversationalist should be—and Celestine, meanwhile, was trying to radiate antisocial waves in an effort to subliminally influence him into leaving her the hell alone.  
  
“So, I hear the Centers are different in Kanto,” Tierno began when the previous topic—that Serena was off investigating the Cave of Emptiness, this cave behind the falls on Route Twenty-Two where the Veil acted oddly, at Hakase’s behest, and Trevor was acting as her escort—was met with apathetic silence.  
  
Celestine felt her left eye beginning twitch. What did a girl have to do to be left alone around here? “ _Yup_.”  
  
Delphi was back on her shoulder, and she heard him heave a sigh.  _Get used to it_ , she thought moodily. Human companionship was a luxury she couldn’t afford. The price just wasn’t worth paying.  
  
“In the New Continent, the Poké Mart is built into the Center itself,” Tierno went on, taking her snappish response in stride. “And a few other things are different, too, like the PC. Hey—if you want, I could show you—”  
  
“I’ve got it covered, thanks,” Celestine interrupted curtly. Granted, that thing with PC  _might_  be important, but she could always consult Hakase about it later.  
  
Tierno glanced away, his expression thoughtful. And for a blissful moment, there was silence.  
  
“Y’know”— _Oh balls_ , she groaned internally—“you haven’t asked the question most people ask by now.”  
  
“And what question is that?” Celestine drawled.  
  
“If Cal and I dated.”  
  
Celestine stopped dead. Then she whirled around, blinking. “Wait—you and Calem dated?”  
  
Tierno chuckled. “Oh,  _god_  no. He’s like a brother to me, y’know? And even if he wasn’t, he’s not my type. But when most people find out that I’m gay and he’s bi, they assume we’ve dated at some point. I was just kinda surprised you didn’t ask.”  
  
She blinked dumbly. “It’s... really none of my busines—”  
  
Without warning, Celestine felt the air shudder, felt it rupture and ripple. She tensed, an icy tingle running down her spine, goosebumps rising up her arms. It had been a while, but she knew that feeling (how could she ever  _forget_?), and while she hoped to the Birds she was wrong, the mere notion of what it  _might_  be made her sick to the pit of her stomach, made her gut lurch all the way up to her throat and her throat squeeze as if to catch it. Trying to swallow the acidic taste of bile climbing up to the back of her mouth, she glanced over to the north, the source of the disturbance, her fingers curling into fists and her hands going numb so she couldn’t feel the crescent-shaped puncture marks where her nails bit her palm or the wetness made by the breaking of skin. She tried to breathe evenly, but her lungs felt like they’d turned to iron, and her heart was thundering so hard it was leaving bruises against the inside of her ribcage.  
  
“Actually,” Tierno went on thoughtfully, oblivious to the tension that had invaded her body, “he and Shauna dated.”  
  
“What?” Celestine turned back to Tierno, caught between remembering the current topic and the disruption she’d just felt in the Veil.  
  
“Oh yeah,” Tierno said, the hint of a cheeky smile appearing. “Like, when we were twelve or something. But it got weird fast, the way it does when friends date friends, and it was over before the third week was out. It was awkward.”  
  
“I, uh, can imagine.” She blinked, trying not to let her voice betray the urgency building inside her chest. “Why are telling me this again?”  
  
“‘Cause I figured it would get you talking,” Tierno answered. “Gotta get you to open up somehow. And hey, if it means telling some embarrassing childhood stories, I think the others can forgive me.”  
  
Celestine glanced away. “I wouldn’t, if it were me.”  
  
“Mm, yeah, probably,” was his nonchalant reply.  
  
She started walking again, more hastiness in her pace. There were more important matters at hand.  
  
But Tierno followed after her. “Okay, okay, I’ll give—I talked to Shauna earlier, and—”  
  
And Celestine froze, ears ringing. The memory of Shauna’s blazing eyes flared in her mind, vivid and painful and raw, but then it was drowned out by that same mantra of  _the right thing, for the best, unnecessary casualties_ , over and over on an endless loop. A lump of cold, hard fury settled in her chest, filled her lungs with a silent scream, her hands clenching harder at her side and her jaw clamping shut so hard she felt the force of it reverberate throughout her skull. She whirled around, hair flying out in a long ebony blade, and her gaze stopped Tierno dead in his tracks. Delphi clung to her shoulder, eyes wide, fur starting to spike as he picked up on her agitation.  
  
“Okay, let me make this  _very clear_ ,” she hissed, something acerbic finding its way into her tone. She needed to end this conversation quickly and discern the source of that disruption. “What I say to other people is  _none_  of your business. If Shauna wants to talk,  _she_  has to come to  _me_  and not send a  _messenger_  to fix her problems for her. Deliver  _that_  message, if you really feel the need to get involved.”  
  
Tierno held his hands up in an appeasing gesture. “Whoa, hold on. I’m not here for Shauna—I’m here for you.”  
  
The fury in Celestine’s chest loosened. “Wait, what?”  
  
“I’ve already heard Shauna’s side,” Tierno said, his tone surprisingly serious, “but I want to hear yours. I didn’t come here to judge you or go after you on Shauna’s behalf. I just want to find a way to resolve it, okay?”  
  
Celestine’s tongue turned numb and useless. She stared at Tierno, the glint of determination in his eye, and, just, couldn’t understand.  
  
“Why?” she murmured, finding her voice. “Why do you even care? You don’t know me.”  
  
“True. But I know what you’re going through.”  
  
She bristled. “You don’t know  _anything_  about me.”  
  
But Tierno just eyed her calmly. “Mlle, may I remind you that, of my three best friends, two of them I’ve only really met because they moved to Vaniville? One of which from another region, like yourself, and the other from the other side of this region. And the third lives rather far away. I’m well aware of how people can feel when they’re uprooted and dumped somewhere else. And I know how that can make someone want to lash out and push people away.”  
  
Celestine almost laughed. “You think I’m bitchy because I’m homesick?”  
  
Tierno crossed his arms, the picture of stability and support. “Is there something else going on?”  
  
Well, yes, but he didn’t need to know that, didn’t need to know about her Aesith status or how the Veil had rippled moments ago. With a huff, Celestine crossed her arms and tried to stand tall. “No. And even if there was, it’s hardly your business.”  
  
“Hey, I’m just trying to help.”  
  
“Did it ever occur to you that I don’t  _want_  help?”  
  
“Yes,  _but_.” Tierno pointed at her accusingly. “That is exactly the sort of thing said by people who don’t want help but need it anyway.”  
  
“ _What_?”  
  
“You have no idea how experienced I am when it comes to inner turmoil,” Tierno said simply, crossing his arms again. “I’m practically a trained psychiatrist by now. I just need a degree.”  
  
Celestine scoffed. “Look, you may think you’re doing the right thing, but you’re not. You want to help your friends out? Tell them to stay away from me and out of trouble.”  
  
“Other than your—if I may use the clinical term here—‘bitchiness’,” Tierno told her, arching a brow, “I don’t see anything about you that would be classified as remotely threatening.”  
  
This time, Celestine  _did_  laugh. A small, bitter chuckle. “You have  _no idea_  the kind of shit I can stir up, if I wanted to.”  
  
Tierno’s brows rose, startled by this declaration. On her shoulder, Celestine felt Delphi shift anxiously, felt his fur radiating an agitated, uncomfortable heat. “Um, Trainer? What’re... what do you mean by that?”  
  
Celestine forced the muscles in her shoulders to uncoil. “Just—tell Shauna to stay back, okay? Trust me. It’s for the best.”  
  
“For her, or for you?” Tierno asked.  
  
She felt like she’d been struck.  
  
“For  _her_ ,” she snapped, but it didn’t sound right. And from the look on Tierno’s face, she guessed he didn’t buy it either.  
  
Before Celestine could properly defend her point further, she heard Delphi yelp and—briefly flashing back to when Rinka barrelled into her on Route Three—had the sense to leap back. Tierno did the same, and just in time, too, as a figure blurred past them, shooting forward like an arrow loosed from its quiver. Celestine only caught a glimpse of a pair of pigtails, rollerskates, and a fierce expression, but it sent a shot of loathing through her all the same.  
  
“What the hell was that?” Tierno muttered, following the figure with his eyes as they—she, probably—vanished down the street.  
  
“Rinka!” came a loud cry. The name made Celestine’s skin prickle uncomfortably, but when she turned, she found that the speaker was a young boy, maybe ten or eleven, with glasses that were far too big for his face, running towards them, only to stop, panting for breath. “Get back here!  _Riiiiiinkaaaaa_!”  
  
“Excusez-moi?” Tierno said, and the boy turned to them. “What’s going on?”  
  
“You have to stop her!” the boy yelped, voice tight with desperation. “She’s— She’s gonna— You have to—”  
  
“Slow down.” Tierno held his hands up, and the boy started to tremble. “Deep breaths.”  
  
The boy gulped air down desperately, on the verge of tears. A feeling of dread stirred in Celestine’s gut. She felt Delphi shift and cast her a glance of concern.  
  
“Okay. Good.” Tierno offered the boy a weak smile. “Now, calmly, tell me what happened.”  
  
The boy sniffed. “My friend—she’s gonna go challenge the Gym. You gotta stop her!”  
  
There was a beat of silence.  
  
“...are you kidding me?” Celestine muttered. The boy turned to her with wide eyes. “That’s it? She’s challenging the Gym? My  _god_ , kid, you made it sound like someone was gonna  _die_.”  
  
The boy started to sob, and Tierno frowned at her.  
  
“What?” She turned to Delphi, who was staring at the boy with a look of bewilderment that mirrored her own, and blinked, dumbfounded. “What’d I say?”  
  
Tierno ignored her and turned back to the boy. “Shh. Hey, hey, hey. Why is it so bad for your friend to challenge the Gym?”  
  
“‘Cause she’s gonna be fighting the Santalune Mantis!” the boy cried out.  
  
“‘Santalune Mantis’?” Delphi repeated, baffled.  
  
_Sounds like a moniker_ , Celestine thought. All Gym Leaders had one. Save for Shigeru-san, who had never bothered with one.  
  
The boy nodded fervently. “She’s, like,  _reaaaally_  strong! And she only ever does  _Reaper_  Battles, too!”  
  
_That_  made Celestine arch a brow. She’d spent a few years working as a Gym Trainer in the Viridian Gym, and had learned early on that the Gym Leader and their staff almost always restricted themselves to Non-Reaper Battles—not because League regulations demanded that the sanctity of life be upheld, oh no. Every time a member of the Gym Leader’s team, or the team of any of their staff, fell in battle, the Gym had to pay for the procuring and training of replacements. Callous as it sounded, it was simply more cost effective and overall more efficient for Gym Battles to remain non-lethal.  
  
Which was why this boy’s claim made no sense.  
  
“And her challengers never come back!” the boy went on, eyes huge, voice trembling. “I heard she, like, has her Pokémon cut their heads off and sows their bodies into this web she keeps in the back of the Gym!”  
  
And here, Celestine frowned. Up until that point, his concerns were legitimate—now they were just tainted by superstitions nonsense and baseless rumors. Overactive imagination much?  
  
“Hey, Trainer?” Delphi piped up, a hint of something both urgent and concerned in his tone. “Didn’t M. Calem say he was going to the Gym earlier?”  
  
Celestine blinked, remembering her run-in with Calem earlier and Hayami’s evolution. “Yeah. He did.”  
  
“Wait.” Tierno snapped back to them, eyes widening slightly. “When was this?”  
  
“Maybe a couple hours ago? Not entirely sure.” She paused to regard the way his posture changed. “We ran into each other by chance. Why?”  
  
Tierno glanced northward, his shoulders tensing. “...maybe we should pay that Gym a visit.”  
  
Before Celestine could tell him he was being ridiculous, she remembered the disturbance she’d felt early, how it had emanated from the same direction Tierno was currently looking towards. The same direction that figure—likely Rinka—had raced off in. If that was the direction of the Gym, and based on the compounding rumors apparently swimming around this place, adding in that ripple in the Veil, then... that must mean—  
  
No. It  _couldn’t_  be.  
  
Her mouth tasted like bile.  
  
“Fine,” she said, trying to keep her voice even, “but I doubt we’ll find anything.”  
  
Tierno nodded and started walking northward. Celestine attempted to follow, but suddenly felt a hand grasp her wrist.  
  
She turned. The boy. “Y-You’re gonna stop Rinka, right? You gotta! She’s, like, my best friend ever! I don’t want her to end up part of a web!”  
  
Celestine licked her lips. “I doubt she’ll listen to me.”  
  
The boy’s eyes widened, wet and afraid and—dammit.  
  
She sighed. “But I’ll try.”  
  
He released her, a tentative grin blooming on his face. “Thank you, Mlle!”  
  
_Don’t thank me yet._  And then Celestine was jogging to catch up, trying to pretend that dread didn’t weigh heavily in her gut.

* * *

**Current Team:**

_Delphi, Male Fennekin (Lv 9)_  
_Docile, Takes plenty of siestas_  
_Ability: Blaze_  
_Moves: Scratch, Tail Whip, Ember_  
_Met: Vaniville ~~Aquacorde~~  Town_  
  
_Max, Male Pidgey (Lv 8)_  
_Naïve, Very finicky_  
_Ability: Tangled Feet_  
_Moves: Tackle, Sand Attack_  
_Met: Route Two_  
  
_Ray, Male Panpour (Lv 8)_  
_Quiet, Likes to relax_  
_Ability: Gluttony_  
_Moves: Scratch, Play Nice, Leer_  
_Met: Santalune Forest_  
  
_Tanner, Male Pidgey (Lv 8)_  
_Hasty, Scatters things often_  
_Ability: Tangled Feet_  
_Moves: Tackle, Sand Attack_  
_Met: Route ~~Three~~  Two_  
  
_Tyler, Male Psyduck (Lv 6)_  
_Naughty, Proud of his power_  
_Ability: Damp_  
_Moves: Water Sport, Scratch, Tail Whip_  
_Met: ~~Route Twenty-Two~~  Santalune City_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Canadians follow American politics almost as closely as Americans. I guess it sorta bled into my plans, because now there's an overarching theme of politics.
> 
> The politics in Kanto is heavily strength-oriented, the belief being that if you had enough passion about something, it would show up in your battling, so only those with enough passion to make a difference had a say. But that's also heavily flawed, for a lot of reasons I'll get into later. And as you'll see as the story progressed, nobody said democracy was flawless either. Celestine hates politics in general though, and I've adapted Flare to be a political party. I'll definitely touch more on Flare later.
> 
> Now, Celestine with Shauna and Calem. In Celestine's mind, she needs to push Shauna away for her own protection. She may be rather cruel about it, but i has the desired effect and that makes it justified. Meanwhile, she also needs to make things right with Calem. This won't automatically make her and Calem friends, but she just wants to clear the air.
> 
> Ahhh, Tyler. I remember being so frustrated and pissed when I got a Psyduck on Route 22 because I really, really wanted a Litleo (even though I already had Delphi), but he ended up being an awesome addition in his own right. More on him later, probably, but for now, our focus shifts to the Gym.
> 
> And can I just say, _fucking finally_. I have been waiting _forever_ to get to this point and I am _so_ glad we’re almost there. And I love Tierno so much. I didn't at first, but the more I write him, the more I love him.
> 
> Translations:  
> \--Excusez-moi = “excuse me” in French  
> \--S’il vous plaît = “please” in French  
> \--Mais bien sûr = “but of course” in French  
> \--Bonjour, mon bon renard = “Hello, my good fox” in French
> 
> For those of you who've read C'est La Vie on the forum, you'll probably notice that I expanded a little more on the NEWS 4-09 bit, because the wordcount is less outrageous on this site. And again, please excuse the slow update. Next one should be... how about on the twenty-second? That works.
> 
> That's all for now,  
> Luna


	15. Chapter 5: Peste (Part 3)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> No, this story is not dead.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING FOR VIOLENCE, GORE, AND SWEARING.

**Chapter 5—Peste**  
(noun)

  * French for “plague”, “scourge”, or “pestilence”



 

 

The Gyms in Kalos seemed much more ornate than in Kanto. In Kanto, they were built with stability in mind, function over fashion, with great steel walls and a domed roof, a great set of stairs that led up to the entrance, which consisted of a pair of great steel doors that slid open when the challenger came close. At least, that’s what the Viridian Gym had been like—though slightly idyllic, painted with various shades of greens in a way that made it look like the forest was growing on the walls and it was columns bound up in ivy that flanked the entrance.

But the Gym in Santalune was made of ruddy brick and teal, fish-scale shingles that lined the roof like chainmail, and sported a small set of chiseled stone steps leading up to a pair of stained-glass door with the design of various insects glittering like jewels. White columns flanked the entrance, lined with swirling filigree from top to bottom, and the roof tapered off into a single, tower-like dome lined with flying buttresses, while twin statues of Scyther flanked the doors like a pair of knights—all gorgeous and very eye-catching. Yes, this building was far more aesthetic than the Gym back in Viridian, and it made Celestine furrow her brow at the sight of it, because no way a build as frivolously decorative as this could be a Gym.  
  
And yet, the cement sign sitting in front said otherwise, bold, swirling golden letters glinting in the light: SANTALUNE GYM.  
  
Tierno was already climbing the steps, urgency overpowering any appreciation for aesthetics. She sighed and marched after him.  
  
The doors slid open with a pleasant ding. Celestine trailed Tierno, into the building and—

  
_**BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP** _

  
“Sonova—!” She lost her balance and banged her head against the doorjamb, sending white phosphenes bursting across her vision. A scintillating bolt of overwhelming audial stimulation knifed through her brain, sparking up from her brainstem until it exploded inside her brain like a fucking firework. Her ears were already ringing like a bomb had gone off inside her skull, so when Delphi yelped and grappled desperately for purchase on her shoulder, she had to bite her lip to keep from hissing in pain.  
  
Tierno, noticing her plight, whirled around and came rushing over. “Whoa! Hey, Celie, are you okay?”  
  
Celestine winced, massaging her overly-sensitive ears and blinking the spots from her eyes. “Fine,” she said, voice strained. Everything sounded weirdly loud, almost echoed. “I’m—I’m fine.”  
  
“Are you sure?” Tierno held his arms out to help her, but she pulled away. Unsure of what else to do, he let his arms fall uselessly to the side.  
  
“Yes.” She held the doorjamb for balance as she straightened. The ringing in her ears was starting to subside, and she subconsciously brushed the bump where the chip had been implanted in the back of her neck. “Totally fine.”  
  
“What happened?” Delphi asked, concerned, eyes round.  
  
“I, ah, broke a nail?”  _Sacred Birds, fucking IP agent never mentioned it would be that fucking **loud**._  
  
Someone like Calem might have questioned that, but thankfully, Tierno wasn’t Calem, and he didn’t question it. He just looked worried, hovering uncomfortably close. “Okay...” He glanced around, nervously. “We should probably look for Cal— Oh, wow, this place is crowded...”  
  
Celestine blinked and stepped out of the doorjamb, allowing the doors to close behind her, and realized he was right. In contrast to the Gym’s stylized exterior, the lobby was utter chaos.  
  
Minty green tile vanished beneath rapid steps as women in pencil skirts and high heels scurried around the area like a swarm of frantic worker bees, effortlessly dodging each other as if anticipating collisions—like some kind of freaky mind synchronization or something. The walls were lined by photographs of myriad Bugs, all of which were clean and crisp and displayed a level of photographic skill that transcended the level of novicey and outright bordered mastery, and potted ferns that dotted the nooks and corners. In the olive upholstery pressed up against the walls, young men and women of various ages and dress seemed to overflow, couches and chairs so filled that some were left standing, leaning against the wall. All Trainers, likely, all of them looking various degrees of disgruntled and irritated and worried while the uniformed women flitted around to try and appease them. In the center of the lobby, Celestine caught a glimpse of a pigtailed girl wearing a helmet arguing heatedly with a blonde woman in a black trench coat, the former agitated and latter trying to calm the former down—anomalies in the crowd, making them rather easy to pick out. Celestine exhaled through her nostrils. Only Rinka could cause a scene, even in such a bustling place such as this.  
  
Delphi poked his nose against her cheek. Celestine turned to him, and he turned his head and pointed with snout over at the white wall. She followed his gaze and—and it was Calem, leaning against the wall with his arms cross and Hayami perching on his shoulder, glancing over at Rinka and the woman she was arguing with, but doing so without really looking.  
  
Celestine grabbed Tierno by the shoulder and pointed at Calem. Tierno followed her finger, eyes widening when he laid sight on Cal, and then started wading through the crowd. Celestine followed, silent.  
  
“Cal! Over here!”  
  
At the sound of Tierno’s voice, Calem snapped his attention to them and straightened. Tierno dodged the scurrying—secretaries? Managers? Gym Trainers? Celestine wondered if the Gym Leader here just had a fetish for women with buns and heels and tight skirts—women with surprising ease and made it to Calem’s corner of the lobby quickly. Celestine, on the other hand, nearly crashed into a pencil-skirted woman and, ignoring the woman’s apologetic platitudes, before arriving in Calem’s little corner of solitude.  
  
“...going on around here?” she caught Tierno saying.  
  
“Yeah,” Delphi added, just before Calem could respond. “You’d think a Gym would be more organized.”  
  
Calem shrugged. “It was like this when I got here.”  
  
Celestine regarded him silently—there was something else, something in the way he refused to meet their gazes. He wasn’t saying something. “Did you put your name in the roster?”  
  
He hesitated for a moment. She stared, awaiting.  
  
“I was going to,” he admitted, “But then that woman over there”—he gestured over to the blonde woman in the trench coat talking to Rinka—“tried to talk me out of it. And she was adamant about it, too—we argued for, like, fifteen minutes straight. And then... a gurney came in from the stadium with a challenger, and... Well, it was chaotic before, but now it’s just a mess.”  
  
“That doesn’t answer my question,” Celestine pointed out. “Did you put your name in the roster or not?”  
  
Calem leveled her with a glare. “No, I didn’t. Happy? After the gurney came through, the woman went somewhere else and told me to ‘think about it’. That was almost an hour ago.”  
  
“So you backed out because you got cold feet?” Celestine asked, arching a brow. That hardly sounded like Calem, adamant as he was. “The sight of a defeat Pokémon was that disconcerting?”  
  
Calem’s gaze turned dark. “It wasn’t the Pokémon that was in the gurney, Celestine.”  
  
Celestine blinked, letting that sink in.  
  
The Pokémon wasn’t the one in the gurney.  
  
She opened her mouth to say something, to conjure up some response, but then Rinka’s voice rang out over the overlying chaos.  
  
“Listen,” spat the Field Trainer, her voice almost screeching in a bratty sort of fury, “I’m  _challenging_  this Gym, and no  _bleach-blonde bimbo_  is gonna change my mind!”  
  
And then the Roller Skater stormed over to the receptionist at the counter, the crowd almost seeming to part around her, unwilling to face her wrath. The blonde that had been arguing with her wilted, almost visibly, as if in defeat, turning away so that Celestine couldn’t see her face.  
  
Calem eyed the scene with a frown. “That’s the woman I was talking about earlier. That girl came in and she went over to her, probably to talk her out of it like she did with me.”  
  
“She didn’t have be to so rude about it, though,” Tierno remarked.  
  
“Agreed.” Calem’s frown deepened as Rinka shouted something at the receptionist. “The hell is her problem?”  
  
“She’s trying to save her license, is likely,” Celestine answered listlessly.  
  
Calem and Tierno snapped their attention to her, the former slightly perturbed and the latter just plain bewildered. Even Hayami, shifting slightly from her perch on her Trainer’s shoulder, blinked in astonishment.  
  
“And how would you know that, Celestine-san?” asked the freshly-evolved Frogadier.  
  
“She used a condensed attack while I was battling her earlier and put one of my Pokémon in jeopardy,” Celestine explained simply. “So, once I got the Center, I filed a complaint against her.”  
  
Calem stared at her, jaw slack. “You did not.”  
  
“That’s kinda harsh, Celie,” Tierno said, wincing.  
  
A shiver of indignance went through the Kantonian. “The chick condensed a damaging move in the middle of a Non-Reaper Battle! She  _violated_  the League’s rules. The hell was I  _supposed_  to do?”  
  
“And she’s the one who started the battle, too,” Delphi piped up. “She ran into Trainer and then started spouting insults for no reason!”  
  
“ _Thank_  you,” Celestine said stiffly. Ignoring the eye roll Calem gave her, she glanced back over at Rinka with a scowl. “Winning a badge will renew her license and nullify that complaint. Plus, she was bitching at me for being a League Trainer and how we mistreat Field Trainers or whatever, so this way she also gets her license upgraded.”  
  
Calem opened his mouth, probably to fire off an acidic retort, but the blonde woman that Rinka had been arguing with suddenly noticed them and began wading through the sea of flittering Gym workers over to them.  
  
As she came closer, Celestine found herself noticing things she hadn’t been able to discern at a distance. Rather than heels, the woman wore a pair of knee-high hiking boots with too-thick laces but not enough scuff to indicate the practice of periodic treks into the wilderness. Under the skirt of her coat, Celestine caught a glimpse of jeans that were torn at the knees and punkish paint splatters. And on the front of her coat, a green scarf was tied in bow that resembled a butterfly’s wings, which bounced lightly in an almost flapping manner with each step.  
  
The blonde dodged another high-heeled worker before reaching them, and she cast Celestine and Tierno a concerned look. “You two aren’t here to challenge the Gym, are you?”  
  
Tierno chuckled nervously and clapped his hand on Calem’s shoulder. “Oh, no, Mlle. We were just looking for our friend here.”  
  
Calem frowned at him.  
  
Celestine crossed her arms. “I would like to see your ICU, though.”  
  
The blonde, Calem, and Tierno all snapped their gazes over to her.  
  
“Come again?” the blonde asked.  
  
Celestine arched a brow. “Did I stutter? I want to see your ICU.”  
  
“The ICU,” the woman repeated.  
  
“Every Gym has to have one,” Celestine said with a shrug. After all, if a challenger’s, Gym Leader’s, or Gym Trainer’s Pokémon was suddenly put into critical condition, waiting for an ambulance to take them to the Center wasted precious time. It was far more efficient to have a medical wing and ICU on-site. “I’d like to see it, please.”  
  
The woman eyed her dubiously. “It’s not open to guests, Mlle.”  
  
“You’re the one who’s been claiming the Gym is too dangerous to challenge,” Celestine said, meeting the blonde’s eyes—green, a shade of jade that sent her memories tumbling back five years, into Viridian Forest, and a young girl with raven hair like her own. Unconsciously, Celestine tightened her grip on her own cross arms, and she ignored the questioning looks Delphi and the others sent her. “You want me to believe you? Show me some proof.”  
  
The woman hesitated, visibly conflicted. Her gaze scanned Celestine’s face, seeming intent on testing her resolve. Then something in the woman’s expression both relented and hardened at the same time.  
  
“Very well. But don’t say I didn’t warn you.” She whirled around sharply. “Follow me.”  
  
Celestine’s fingernails bit into her arms as she followed. She caught Calem and Tierno exchanging a glance before Calem peeled himself off the wall, and they both followed after her.  
  
Uncrossing her arms, she reached for Delphi’s Ball as the woman led them through the crowd. “I’m going to put you back in your Ball now,” she whispered to her Fennekin.  
  
He shot her a bewildered look. “Why?”  
  
She enlarged it. “Because I don’t think you’ll be able to stomach what we’re about to see.”  
  
“I’ll be fine,” he insisted stubbornly.  
  
“...fine.” She shrank his Ball back down, but didn’t put it back. “But if it becomes too much, tell me.”  
  
And if Celestine’s suspicions proved correct, that would certainly be the case.

* * *

The blonde lady led them to a white door labeled with red neon letters: Intensive Care Unit. It smelled icily sterile beyond, something that made Delphi’s nose wrinkle. He hated the smell of hospitals, all those weird chemicals and disinfectants. And they were always so white. They gave him the creeps, quite frankly. And that, along with what Trainer had said, admittedly made him a little anxious.  
  
Delphi caught Tierno and Calem exchanging nervous looks, caught the tension wrought in Hayami’s muscles, as the lady swiped a silver Card— _Wait, silver? I though silver Cards were only for..._ —in the scanner and the door slid open with a metallic hiss.  
  
“Huh,” the lady said.  
  
Calem turned to her. “What?”  
  
“Nothing.” The lady pocketed her Card, and Delphi caught a flash of a name—something starting with “V”. “Just a little surprised I still have access.”  
  
“Why wouldn’t you have access?” Delphi asked, bewildered. Particularly because of that Card color and what it meant.  
  
The lady (Delphi was going to start calling her “Mlle V” now) winced. “I’m... not exactly welcome on the premises.”  
  
“Discouraging challengers does have a way of making you unpopular,” Calem remarked with a hint of sarcasm.  
  
Trainer rolled her eyes and crossed the threshold, and Delphi with her. He didn’t really look behind him to see if Calem or Tierno followed until he heard the door shut and he jumped, whirling around to see Mlle V taking up the rear.  
  
And... it was awful.  
  
The whole place was mind-numbingly white, polished linoleum tiles underfoot and a blank ceiling, lights that glared down too-brightly. Delphi felt like his eyes were burning, just looking at it, but then they flickered violently, as if trying to accommodate him or something. But when they came back up, they were far dimmer, shadows pooling in places where there shouldn’t have been, and it suddenly seemed eerie. Nurses in blue scrubs and doctors in long, clinical white coats scurried around, just like those ladies in the skirts and heels in the lobby, but they were far more purposeful in their strides, calmer and composed, as if numbed to the sights that glared back at them from behind sheets of glass—windows into the rooms of patients, no doubt. And Delphi had no idea how that could be, how they could act like it was nothing, because he saw  _red_. And it was  _everywhere_.  
  
Beyond the glass windows, that was where the resemblance to a traditional hospital ended. There were no curtains separating patients from one another—there was no  _anything_  separating patients from one another. Hospital beds, makeshift cots, and gurneys were all packed in tight rows to the point where there was almost no room for any of the equipment, and all of these beds and gurneys had a patient that looked like they were in desperate need of surgery or treatment of some kind. Human and Pokémon alike, most unconscious and all hooked up to an IV or monitor of some kind. And wrapped in thick layers of gauze, white and pristine save for the enormous rusty stains that marred the otherwise clean fabric.   
Trainer was right—it was gruesome.  
  
Most were unconscious, the only sign of life the constant beeping of monitors and jumping lines that signified heartbeats, but some were painfully awake, moaning and coughing and some sobbing. There was staccato beeping that assaulted Delphi’s delicate ears, made him pull them back, in addition to the other horrid, and far more organic sounds, that emanated from the invalid. Cuts marred every body, bloody slashes that thick gauze slabs were trying desperately to mend and failing miserably, blood seeping through in copious amounts that couldn’t be healthy. Some were hooked up to blood bags, others to saline and others more to something colored bright pink—likely a Hyper Potion, but the type that worked on people instead of Pokemon, although some Pokémon were hooked up to said bags with that same viscous pink fluid. Delphi noticed some of the patients were missing entire limbs, stubs wrapped haphazardly but still bleeding, almost weeping lachrymosely. Nurses darted around, changing dressings or sheets or doing other such odd jobs, occasionally blotting out the patient from Delphi’s view, but he could still catch a glimpse of what seemed to be horrid mutilation marks—the kind made by something that could stab and slash and cut with clean, merciless precision—on their faces or torsos. The nurses seemed desperate to try and cover up these wounds, as if they were shameful, but the ones left waiting for eclipsing were left gruesomely exposed. Some were infected, by the looks of it, dripping something that looked vile and slimy and might smell bad if they weren’t enclosed in some other room. A nurse slipped into the door and the putrid stenches of sepsis and gangrene and necrosis, rotting flesh and infection, of poo and pee and other disgusting, decaying stenches flooded Delphi’s sensitive nostrils and tugged at his gag reflex.  
  
When Delphi heard gagging, he almost thought it was coming from him. He did, after all, taste bitter bile rising up his throat and the room was swaying dangerously. But then he noticed it was coming from behind him, and he turned to see Tierno retching—to see Calem drinking it all in with a dark look in his eyes, to see the horror written on Hayami’s face, to see Mlle V lowering her eyes almost guiltily.  
  
Trainer knelt down swiftly to grab a trash can that had been placed by the door and thrust it to Tierno. He took it just as swiftly and retched into it. And all throughout, Trainer’s gaze remained frontward. Her face might as well have been stone.  
  
A doctor noticed them and came over, face stern. “You should not be here, Mlle Dupuis,” he said, but it seemed like he was addressing Mlle V and not Trainer and the others.  
  
Mlle V (Dupuis?) bit her lip. “I know, but I—  _They_  needed to see this.”  
  
The doctor opened his mouth to respond, but Trainer suddenly brushed past him and made her way over to the glass window of one room to the left. “M-Mlle, you can’t go in there!”  
  
Trainer didn’t, though, and made no attempt to. She just stopped, directly in front of the glass window, and stared into the room, eyes smoldering.  
  
But the sight was too much for Delphi. The blood, the moaning, the smell of death that they tried to scrub away with citrusy disinfectant and failed to—he squeezed his eyes shut and tried to think about Oncle, about the lab, about his foster Trainer’s smiling face, about his siblings and parents and the happy times he’d spent out in the backyard, exploring and play-fighting—  
  
A wet, phlegmy cough sounded from behind the glass. It grew louder, and in the steady staccato of beeps, a member of the chorus suddenly spiked and became more frantic, higher and more desperate. The coughing turning into something breathier, something shuddering and violent—a death rattle. And then, abruptly, it stopped. The beeping that had once been so high and frantic became a long and monotonous, like a scream.  
  
Delphi wanted to cry.  
  
“Excuse me, Doctor?” came Hayami’s voice from behind, hesitant and fearful. “Ah... The Gym Leader... Is responsible for this?”  
  
A huffed laugh. “Like anyone else could fill up the ICU this fast.”  
  
Delphi cracked open an eye. The nurses were placing a stark white sheet over a nonhumanoid body. Slowly, Trainer placed a hand on the glass. The eyes of her reflection were still smoldering.  
  
“How long has this been going on?” Calem asked sharply.  
  
The doctor grunted. “‘Bout a month.”  
  
“And the League is letting this happen?”  
  
A feminine sigh, likely Mlle Dupuis. “If the League  _is_  aware, they don’t care.”  
  
“What?” And here, Calem sounded  _angry_.  
  
“Up until recently, this Gym was in serious debt,” Mlle Dupuis explained hesitantly. “The Gym Leader was losing constantly—she never minded, of course! As far as she was concerned, it meant there were a lot of talented Trainers out there. But the Gym had to take out several loans to pay for prize money. And then the League cut her off, left her to drown. That’s... when this started.  
  
“The Gym isn’t losing money anymore. With each recorded loss, prize money from the Trainer’s account is automatically transferred into the Gym’s account. Add that in with the money taken out for health insurance to pay for treatment here at the Gym’s ICU—only half of which is actually used to pay for what’s going on here in the ICU, and the other half likely filtering into the Gym’s account for the Gym Leader’s own benefit—and the Gym is paying off its debts very quickly. The League couldn’t be more pleased. It’s likely they’re also unaware of just how full the ICU is.”  
  
“So  _what_?” Calem demanded, his voice cracking with fury. “That’s  _it_? The Gym collects money and this all suddenly  _disappears_? Nobody knows  _anything_?”  
  
A pause. Trainer’s reflection narrowed her eyes. Delphi closed his eyes again as the nurses began to wheel out the gurney occupied by the unmoving (dead) body.  
  
“The Gym Leader has connections to the  _Lumiose Star_ ,” said the doctor tiredly. “She uses her influence to keep them quiet, and in turn has them keep other media sources quiet.”  
  
“Oh my god,” Tierno murmured, horrified.  
  
“Can one person really have so much influence?” Hayami asked skeptically. “One media source, I can understand. Connections to the  _Lumiose Star_  and all. But  _all_  of them?”  
  
“How am I supposed to know?” the doctor snapped. “I’m a doctor, not a reporter. And I have patients to deal with. I want all of you out of here within the next fifteen minutes.  _Merci_.” And then his curt footsteps vanished into the pitter-patter of medical staff’s footfalls.  
  
“Why would Viola do this?” Calem murmured, his voice tight.  
  
“Who’s Viola?” That was Tierno. There was a clattering that sounded like the trash can he’d been vomiting into hitting the floor. Delphi could still smell the fresh vomit, though.  
  
“The Gym Leader here,” Calem answered coolly. “I did my research.”  
  
“You may need to update your information,” came Mlle Dupuis’s voice, sounding rather rueful. “There hasn’t been a Gym Leader named Viola here in quite some time.”  
  
A beat of silence. The beeping caught Delphi’s attention again. Lives. These were  _lives_.  
  
“What are you talking about?” Calem demanded.  
  
“Are the Gym Battles still open for public viewing?” Delphi’s eyes snapped open at the sound of Trainer’s voice. Her reflection had turned away, so Delphi could only view the side profile, but her expression had become hard, fierce in a cold sort of way.  
  
Mlle Dupuis turned to her so sharply that the side of her blond bob slapped her cheek lightly. “What?”  
  
“Shauna... told me that the Gyms here allow public viewing, and she was surprised when I told her the Gyms in Kanto didn’t.” Trainer stopped, suddenly, shifting awkwardly. It took Delphi a moment to realize she was embarrassed at mentioning Shauna. “So, has public viewing been closed, or no?”  
  
Mlle Dupuis fixed Trainer with a dubious, emerald-eyed stare. “...yes. You’d have to sign up at the front desk. Why?”  
  
“I want to watch today’s match,” Trainer said, and there was a tremor in her voice—but it wasn’t fear. It was fury, the calm sort that was more terrifying than screaming and shouting. Her eyes were burning. “I want to know what kind of person this Gym Leader is, and what the hell she’s thinking—tarnishing her Gym’s reputation like this.”  
  
Calem’s expression became a shadow of Trainer’s, eyes dark and mouth tight. “Agreed.”  
  
Tierno looked a little green around the gills as he cast a worried look between Calem and Trainer, but then he slumped in resignation. “Well, someone’s gotta be a buffer between you two.”  
  
“The hell is  _that_  supposed to mean?” the two demanded—at the exact same time, too. They exchanged a slightly bewildered glance with each other, clearly just as shocked at the other by their unintentional synchrony.  
  
Hayami cleared her throat. “I believe he is referring to your collective streak in noncooperation.”  
  
Calem frowned at the Frogadier. Trainer shot her a subtle glare.  
  
Mlle Dupuis bit her lip. “...if you’re going to watch, stay away from the front seats. They tend to get...bloody.”  
  
Another silence.  
  
Mlle Dupuis turned and opened the door. Delphi flattened his ears as another monitor started beeping louder and faster, as nurses converged on another dying patient.  
  
As they exited, Trainer pulled out Delphi’s Ball and held it up. “I’m putting you in.”  
  
Delphi straightened. “Trainer—”  
  
“If you can’t handle what was in there,” Trainer said sharply, “you’re not going to handle watching the battle.”  
  
“I’m fi—”  
  
“No. You’re not. This isn’t a discussion.” And then there was red light, and Delphi couldn’t think how much it reminded him of blood in the dreamless sleep of his Ball.

* * *

The Gym Trainer trial was generally uneventful—simply a qualification that the challenger was skilled enough to even challenger the Gym Leader in the first place—so it was usually a private affair. Ordinarily, it consisted of a test of the Gym Leader’s design, something that would test certain aspects of the challenger’s ability. Shigeru-san, for example, had installed a maze of gyration tiles that sent challengers spinning through the area and straight into a battle with a Gym Trainer, all to test the challenger’s ability to handle disorientation and their overall composure.  
  
According to Calem, Viola’s was a dimly-lit maze full of spiderwebs, haunted-house-style, meant to test the challenger’s overall courage. When Celestine asked, suspicions raised, how he knew this, he became rather evasive, saying only that he had a source inside the League.  
  
“No offense dude,” Tierno said, “but if your source is who I think it is, your information’s probably stale.”  
  
“Shut up,” was Calem’s flat reply.  
  
Tierno sighed. “Look, Cal, I’m just saying that your ex from a year and a half ago isn’t—”  
  
“ _Tierno_.”  
  
“TMI boys,” Celestine muttered, cheek in hand.  
  
They ended up not sitting in the bleachers at all, but on a balcony that hovered about ten feet above the ground, just above where the bleachers ended. This was the Gym Leader’s chamber—more like a stadium, the standard kind you’d expect in an official Tournament, with a wide dirt battlefield and a protective railing around the bleachers that absorbed Aura, effectively protecting the audience from errant attacks. The balcony lacked this protection, something Calem remarked was a safety violation, but the bleachers were full and the balconies were the only things left unoccupied. Celestine suspected it was for precisely the fact that it lacked protection that it was unoccupied. The railing looked as if it had been replaced recently...  
  
The seats were comfortable, at least, and the view was much better. From this vantage, Celestine could view the entirety of the field, though anything that appeared on it would be significantly smaller. Tierno had taken the leftmost seat, Celestine slumping in the rightmost, and Calem seating himself in the middle—though Tierno had protested that he’d rather be in the middle just to break them up in case they argued, but Hayami assured him she was more than capable of mediating herself if it came down to it. Celestine resented that.  
  
Celestine’s gaze flicked back to the field. The lights were off and the stadium was cast in a crepuscular darkness.  _Rinka’s taking forever..._  
  
A thought struck her, and she straightened somewhat.  _Is it just the Gym Leader that’s putting people in the ICU, or are the Gym Trainers playing a part too?_  
  
Her blood boiled at the notion. As a former Gym Trainer herself, the idea of either Gym Trainer or Leader being the cause of so much blood and death left her beyond furious. A Gym was a sacred institution dedicated to testing the bonds between Pokémon and Trainer. To see it turned into a place of nightmares and darkness was enough to make her want to bash someone’s skull in.  
  
A spotlight suddenly the side of the field, highlighting a figure standing on the side of the field. The announcer, likely. A black cord snaked out behind them, probably connected to a mike.  
  
“Laaaaaaaaaadies and gentlemen!” came a booming voice, one that jolted Celestine from her seat and reverberated through her skeleton.  
  
The frubbles on Hayami’s neck flared and Calem jumped, eyes round as coins. Tierno looked around, then turned back to them with a frown and jerked his thumb in the direction a speaker Celestine hadn’t noticed. Ah, so  _that_ was why this balcony was unoccupied.  
  
“In the blue corner, Santalune’s very own superstar!” The announcer gestured flamboyantly to the left. “The reporter with a passion for insects! The self-proclaimed Santalune Mantis! The black widow herself! Your Gym Leeeeeeader—Alexa Dupuis!”  
  
A second spotlight shone down on the left end of the field, highlighting a brunette figure in red and black attire. The brunette turned to the audience and waved in a perfect, parade-float manner. The audience’s applause was weirdly asymmetrical, tepid in some places and overzealous in others.  
  
“Who the hell is  _Alexa_?” Celestine demanded, turning to Calem.  
  
But Calem stared at the brunette uncomprehendingly. “...I have  _no idea_.”  
  
Tierno bit his lip and glanced nervously at Calem. “Maybe you should call your ex, Cal.”  
  
Calem nodded, too stunned to do anything else.  
  
The announcer gestured warily to the right. “...and in the red corner, the challenger! A Santalune native—give it up for Roller Skater Rinka!”  
  
Another spotlight shone down on the right end, and a figure in a yellow helmet stepped into the spotlight. Rinka. She didn’t wave, like this Alexa person had, but the audience cheered nonetheless. Less than for Alexa, though. Something about the air had changed within the bleachers. It was almost...fearful.  
  
“This will be a one-on-one battle,” called out Alexa, her voice strong and proud and likely carried to the speakers by a hidden mike. “The first Trainer to effectively kill their opponent’s Pokémon will be declared the winner. Do you agree to these conditions?”  
  
Rinka’s voice came through speakers tersely, “Yes.”  
  
The laugh that Alexa gave was sharply off-kilter and wild, borderline manic, and it made the hairs on Celestine’s arms stand on end. “Excellent!” crowed the Gym Leader. “Let’s begin!”  
  
Light flooded the field, and the sudden onslaught made Celestine squint. But then she noticed a glimmer of blue and she tensed.  
  
_Wait a sec..._  
  
Her vision adjusted, Celestine saw Alexa toss a Ball into the field, which released a burst of light that coalesced into something humanoid and bright crimson, body glinting with a harsh, metallic light.  
  
Celestine jumped to her feet and grabbed hold of the railing, throwing her upper body over it to get a better look. “Holy  _shit_!”  
  
Calem joined her at the edge of the railing, Hayami on his shoulder and his face blanching. “...please tell me that’s not a fucking Scizor.”  
  
It was a fucking Scizor.  
  
Against a no-badge challenger.  
  
What the fucking  _shit_.  
  
“What the frick lady?!” came Rinka’s voice, simultaneously outraged and scared. “You can’t just throw out a Pokémon like that against a challenger without any badges! The hell happened to the badge ranking?!”  
  
“Oh, honey,” Alexa crooned. “I don’t know  _what_  lameass Gyms you’ve been visiting, but that’s not how we do things here. I go all out, and you go all out, and we see who wins. That’s it, plain and simple.” She paused, and Celestine watched her hand go up to finger at something around her neck. A choker, maybe? “Unless, of course, you’re saying that you’re simply not strong enough, in which case you can leave right now. Is that what you’re telling me, little bug?”  
  
There was a long pause, during which Tierno came up to join them.  
  
Then, Rinka’s voice came, sharp and hard, “No. Let’s do this.”  
  
“She’s batshit crazy,” Calem muttered, and Celestine couldn’t tell if he was talking about Alexa or Rinka. “Out of her damn mind.”  
  
“Fantastic!” Alexa squealed. She clasped her hands next to her cheek. “Send out your Pokémon then.”  
  
Rinka did so. Within a moment, her Fletchling was swooping around in the air, free and proud and strong. But not strong enough to take on a  _fucking Scizor_.  
  
“Let’s begin,” Alexa said, an odd tremor of excitement in her voice. She touched her neck and then there was a scintillating flash of powder blue—and then the air rippled, shuddered and warped. Celestine could feel the Veil trembling violently, could feel it swell and shrink and undulate, even from where she stood.  
  
She only caught a glimpse of a vine of ethereal blue light snaking out, the air shimmering and warping all around it like a mirage, before she bolted back into the waiting area behind the bleachers.  
  
“Celestine!” Calem called after her, but she ignored him.  
  
The sound of her own heartbeat drowned out everything except her own frantic thoughts. It couldn’t be it couldn’t be it couldn’t be— But it  _was_. She had seen it with her own two eyes, felt the Veil’s rippling as it tried to cope with the disturbance, and she flashed back to the ICU, the state of all those challengers and their Pokémon who had been caught victim unexpectedly, and the light that had been emitted from Alexa’s choker—  
  
And it all clicked, her stomach lurching as she burst into the bleachers and practically leaped down the stairs in her haste, ignoring the indignant shouts of fellow spectators as it all of it coalescing into one horrible conclusion. One that made her hands feel numb and her head spin and she thrust herself against the railing of the bleachers just in time to feel it warm up, activating to absorb any stray crackles of the wicked bolt of black-violet, lightning-like Aura that whizzed past. Celestine could feel the air around it rip and rend, feel it tear and screech, and the Night Slash carved a gash into the field that landed dangerously close to Rinka. For one horrid, fraction of a moment, the cloud of dust that had been kicked hung suspended in the air, and it was as if time had frozen.  
  
Then the air exploded into a deafening sonic boom that left her ears ringing, and Celestine braced herself against the superheated rush of displaced air, strong enough to tear at her hair and pull at it so hard she felt it in her scalp, strong enough to burn against her skin and make her eyes water. She opened her eyes just in time to glimpse Danny, high in the air, a mere silhouette against the blinding stadium lights—and then a red blur shot up after it. Her ears were still too busy ringing to properly process the audible crack of a second Night Slash charging on its left pincer, and only came back when it sliced Danny cleanly in half.  
  
The corpse fell in two distinct halves, one to the far side and one to the closer side, the innards spilling out between them. All around Celestine, the crowd erupted into either horrified screams or bloodthirsty applause, and she could only watch, her knuckles turning white.  
  
Celestine brushed hair out of her face as another sonic boom hit, this one strong enough to make her bones vibrate and her teeth clack. The red blur landed with a ground-shaking  _thump_ , but it wasn’t a Scizor that landed. Oh no, it was too sharp to be a Scizor, its legs geometrically shaped and its pincers far too long, too large and piercing. A black crest marred its otherwise ruby exoskeleton and all around it, the air shimmered and warped, the Veil wrestling constantly to conceal this monster from the eyes of mortals.  
  
_Oh no no no no no no no oh Birds please no—_  
  
Calem and Tierno joined her, but Celestine didn’t see them. Didn’t see anything beyond that monstrosity, that thing that was too tall, too deadly to be a Scizor. Its wings were like blades, and its eyes, normally amber-colored, were a frigid shade of blue devoid of freewill.  
  
Her stomach plummeted, throat burning like acid, and she lost all feeling in her fingers and toes.  
  
_Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck—_  
  
Rinka screamed.  
  
“Are you kidding me? Is that really  _it_?” came Alexa’s laughing, sardonic voice. From closer up, Celestine could make out the dulled caramel brown of her bob, the etiolated, skeletal sharpness of her features, the sunkenness of her eyes and the shadows that pooled in her too-sharp cheekbones. A wicked smile was framed by chapped, cracked lips, teeth yellow, eyes glinting like broken shards of a malachite. She must have been pretty, once, but that loveliness was long-gone, replaced by something sickly and in desperate need of help. “Did it really only take one hit?  _Seriously_?  
  
There was a choker around her neck, black and tight like a noose. In the center was a marble-sized orb that shone like a dying star, black and ruby in color but glowing a bright shade of powder blue.  
  
“Oh my god, that’s so  _pathetic_!” the woman crowed. Her bottom lip cracked and bled as it stretched into a wide, mocking grin. “That’s just—I can’t even!”  
  
Rinka started to sob, holding her hands to her mouth. A few sliced-up feathers fluttered to the ground.  
  
“Well,” Alexa went on, her voice turning to a slow drawl, “I can’t imagine what a painful existence one as weak as yourself might end up enduring if I were to leave you here. I suppose I have no choice then—consider this a mercy.”  
  
The Bug monster tensed. Alexa flicked her wrist dismissively.  
  
“Goodbye little bug.”  
  
It shot forward.  
  
Rinka screamed again, and Celestine with her.  
  
“Ambrosia, Protect!”  
  
The incoming Night Slash diffused harmlessly off a great shield of frosted blue, glass-like energy that materialized at the last minute. Celestine watched with bated breath as a butterfly with satiny wings colored a vibrant shade of amethyst came fluttering into view, positioning itself in front of Rinka almost protectively.  
  
“That’s a Vivillon,” Calem murmured as Alexa screeched in frustration and her crimson monster leaped back, snapping its pincers menacingly. “...Elegant Pattern, I think.”  
  
“Have you completely lost your mind, Alexa?!” came a voice, seeming to choke on grief but resounded all the same. From the shadows emerged the blonde woman from before, her jade eyes burning furiously, as the Vivillon, presumably hers, dropped the Protect. What was it that doctor had called her? Mlle... Du-something? Celestine couldn’t remember.  
  
Alexa’s lip curled back and the manic gleam in her eyes grew threefold. “You little bitch! You just don’t know when to quit, do you?”  
  
“They... know each other,” Tierno said, shocked.  
  
The blonde shook her head wildly. “I’m not going to stand by while you continue to attack innocents!”  
  
Alexa huffed another off-kilter laugh. “Oh come off your high horse, Viola!”  
  
“Viola,” Celestine murmured, glancing briefly at Calem’s face, which was blank with horror and quickly losing color. “As in, the Viola who’s supposed to be Gym Leader?”  
  
Calem inhaled sharply.  
  
Celestine turned back to the stadium. Alexa was sauntering closer, causing Viola to flinch and Alexa to smirk. “What’s the matter, little sis? Did you come here to try and win your title back?”  
  
The breath left Celestine’s lungs.  
  
_Little sis._  
  
Viola drew another Ball from her pocket. “My title has nothing to do with this, Alexa! This about you attacking innocent peo—”  
  
A Night Slash ripped through the air and slammed into the ground just behind them, kicking out a cloud of obscuring debris. The sonic boom that followed nearly drowned out Viola’s scream—nearly, but not completely. When the dust cleared, Viola was clutching a long, bloody gash on her shoulder, her face knotted in pain, Rinka ducked on the ground behind her and the Vivillon having flattened itself on top of her.  
  
“Holy shit!” Tierno cried out.  
  
Celestine grit her teeth, her hands completely numb and trembling violently around her grip on the railing. Her feet itched.  
  
“I have no tolerance for blustering pathetic Bugs like yourself,” Alexa announced, her mouth drawing into a pout. “So hurry up and die already.”  
  
The beastly Scizor started forward again, and Viola braced herself—  
  
“GYM LEADER ALEXA!”  
  
—and then the scene came to a grinding halt, all eyes traveling to the raven-haired girl that was leaning her entire upper body over the railing. Without a word, Celestine vaulted over it cleanly and landed deftly on the side of the field, ignoring the awkward twinge in her ankles that came from landing in heels.  
  
“My name is Lavieaux Celestine from Viridian City,” she declared as she stormed into the field, unstoppable as a hurricane, her eyes blazing, “and I officially challenge you for your title and ownership of the Santalune Gym.”  
  
“Celestine!” Tierno called out.  
  
“What the  _fuck_?!” Calem snapped.  
  
The crowd erupted into a frantic murmur, equal parts excited and fearful.  
  
But Alexa regarded Celestine with something akin to boredom as she approached. “Go back to the bleachers, little girl. This is a Gym, not the kiddie table at Thanksgiving.”  
  
“Get  _out of here_ ,” Viola hissed, but Celestine ignored her.  
  
Alexa rolled her eyes and turned away, eyeing her nails listlessly.  
  
“I’m not a kid—I’m a surgeon,” Celestine said softly, once she came close enough to be heard over the crowd without shouting. She stopped, maybe a foot away from Alexa’s monster. “I’m here to remove that parasitic thing on your neck.”  
  
Alexa snapped back to her, stunned.  
  
Celestine allowed her Aura to flare, allowed her eyes to burn with the saltire mark of the Aesith—the Infinity Cross. The Scizor hissed and stepped back. Alexa’s bleeding lip twitched into a grin.  
  
“Well I’ll be damned,” she purred, sauntering over until she was face-to-face with Celestine. Long, skeletal fingers brushed the choker on her neck, and it stopped glowing. The Scizor slumped, starting to shrink and revert to its natural state, and Alexa whipped out a Ball and returned it before it could do so fully. “And here I thought the only one I’d have to worry about would be Korrina.”  
  
From her peripheral, Celestine saw Calem hop the railing and rush over to Viola, who had collapsed to her knees, still clutching her gushing shoulder. Tierno followed after him, tripping over his own feet in a rare moment of clumsiness.  
  
“So what brings you to my web, little fly?” Alexa filled Celestine’s vision. She looked even more sickly up close—her eyes were impossibly wide, her irises shrunken but her pupils blown and her sclera bloodshot. Her breath smelled sour and the gem on her choker pulsed like a bloody heart. “Come to take back your precious little trinket?”  
  
Celestine could feel her hands curling into fists. The air was still shuddering from the aftermath, and the source was so close it made her spine tremble, as if anticipating a storm. “Three weeks,” she bit out. “Does that work for you?”  
  
“Well, gee, I don’t know if I can  _stand_  to wait that long.” Alexa’s grin and eyes were wild, manic. “But I’d rather savor it than rush it, so I think I can... find a way, to restrain myself.”  
  
Celestine searched her green eyes and...and there was  _nothing_.  _Nothing_  she could—  
  
“Good.” Celestine whirled around sharply and started fast walking away as quickly as she could without showing weakness, her bones still shuddering from being so close. Calem was having Hayami use her frubbles to suppress the bleeding on Viola’s shoulder. Tierno was helping Rinka up, and she was shaking, Viola’s Vivillon flitting around nervously. “Until then.”  
  
“I’ll be  _waiting_ ,” Alexa singsonged.  
  
Celestine reached the side of the field just as Calem was helping Viola up. The woman was trembling, eyes dull from blood loss. “Let me help,” she said.  
  
Calem eyed her for a moment, but Viola was limp and groggy, and the former Gym Leader all but fell onto Celestine. The Kantonian was knocked off balance by the woman’s weight suddenly hit her, but quickly regained it. Hayami’s frubbles weren’t air-tight, and blood dribbled onto Celestine’s shoulder, soaked into the fabric of her shirt, warm and wet.  
  
“I’ve got you,” Celestine murmured. She turned to Calem and Tierno urgently. “ICU, now.”  
  
“Danny,” Rinka was sobbing, “Danny, he’s— He’s—”  
  
“He’s dead.” Celestine hoisted Viola up, the blonde’s head lolling on Celestine’s shoulder. She glanced back at the field, to the halves of the Fletchling’s corpse, and fought back a wince. While she had held nothing but acrimony towards the bird for the wound it had inflicted on Ray, she knew he hardly deserved to die. And especially not so suddenly, without any warning, and in such a gruesome manner.  
  
She couldn’t stand to look anymore, so she didn’t. “C’mon. Let’s get the hell out of here.”

* * *

**Current Team:**

_Delphi, Male Fennekin (lv 9)_  
_Docile, Takes plenty of siestas_  
_Ability: Blaze_  
_Moves: Scratch, Tail Whip, Ember_  
_Met: Vaniville ~~Aquacorde~~  Town_  
  
_Max, Male Pidgey (lv 8)_  
_Naïve, Very finicky_  
_Ability: Tangled Feet_  
_Moves: Tackle, Sand Attack_  
_Met: Route Two_  
  
_Ray, Male Panpour (lv 8)_  
_Quiet, Likes to relax_  
_Ability: Gluttony_  
_Moves: Scratch, Play Nice, Leer_  
_Met: Santalune Forest_  
  
_Tanner, Male Pidgey (lv 8)_  
_Hasty, Scatters things often_  
_Ability: Tangled Feet_  
_Moves: Tackle, Sand Attack_  
_Met: Route ~~Three~~  Two_  
  
_Tyler, Male Psyduck (lv 6)_  
_Naughty, Proud of his power_  
_Ability: Damp_  
_Moves: Water Sport, Scratch, Tail Whip_  
_Met: ~~Route Twenty-Two~~  Santalune City_

* * *

**WORLD BUILDING**

**I.**

Originally, the League itself was quite bloody, with Gym Leaders having fixed teams of their choice and entire Routes that went unmonitored, rife with wild, vicious Pokémon still bitter about the damage done to their homes during the Crimson War. It was a deathtrap, which was why the League overwent several revisions in order to make it safer and more efficient.  
  
The first revision was addition the badge ranks. This forced League Trainers to declare the number of badges they owned, and if the gap was at least two badges wide, the ensuing battle must be Non-Reaper in nature. This was to prevent less experienced Trainers from being swept and have their teams slaughtered. Gym Leaders, as well, now keep multiple teams, one of each badge level, a personal team that they often use in the Tournaments the League hosts in order to lure more potential League Trainers into the Circuit challenge.  
  
The second revision was intensifying the process of applying for a traveler’s permit. League Trainer applicants must now demonstrate a basic understanding of, not only battle mechanics, but basic care and survival skills. In addition to filling out an application, applicants are vetted by the predominant League Official in the area, either a Gym Leader or a head Ranger or some other official, and must pass several small tests (with subjects that usually range from demonstrating how to set up a tent to filling out a graph on the Type Effectiveness system), which eventually culminates into a weighted exam. With the process of earning a traveler’s permit, the very thing that allows League Trainers to travel and gives them their title, being so intensive, this guaranteed that only those competent enough would be allowed to participate in the Circuit challenge.  
  
This does not necessarily mean that those who are denied a traveler’s permit cannot be Trainers. Gym Trainers were added to the system around the same time as the traveler’s permit, in order to give those who failed an opportunity to still battle and train. These Trainers still must prove competent in battle, but rather than passing a standardized test, they instead earned the approval of the Gym Leader in which they would serve under, thus naturally the process includes both an interview and a battle demonstration. The role of Gym Trailers is to provide a warm-up for League Trainers before they faced the Gym Leader, to give challengers an idea of the Gym’s typing and strategies and allow them to formulate effective strategies. Often, Gym Trainers are Field Trainers who assimilate into Gyms in order to earn more money.  
  
While Field Trainers (called “Class Trainers” in the New Continent, Alola, and Hoenn) are employed by the League just like Gym Trainers and are paid more generously than them, but a great deal of that money is poured into caring for their team and the reward money (sometimes called “mercy money”) doled out to League Trainers who successfully beat them. Because of this, little of the stipend granted to them is left over, while the money for the care of Gym Trainers’ teams is covered by the Gym’s expenses and Gym Trainers do not dole out mercy money. Furthermore, Gym Trainers have slightly more liberty with their teams, capturing anything so long as it is native to the region and within the Type perimeters of their Gym. Field Trainers have a guideline of Pokémon they must capture based on the Class assigned to them, and are also assigned level caps. While their role was initially to provide a way for League Trainers to bridge the level gap from badge rank to badge rank, but over time Field Trainers began to be viewed in a more negative light, often thought of as a League Trainer’s punching bags. The Class ranks are often assigned based on age, experience, gender, and other variables that have been often called discriminatory. However, one of the biggest criticisms is that, because the application process is so lax, Field Trainers don’t even need to demonstrate a basic competence of battle mechanics.  
  
The quality of Field Trainers versus Gym Trainers varies from region to region. In Sinnoh, for example, mercy money is distributed by Gym Trainers, so Field Trainers rake in more money. In Tohjo, the amount of mercy money is simply less, so Field Trainers make much more. In fact, Tohjo Field Trainers are treated the most generously.  
  
Originally, this was the same in Kalos, but since the rise of the Legrand administration, the funding for the League and its officials has slowly gone into decline, and Field Trainers find themselves with smaller stipends every year, to the point where they are left scrap for funds.

 

 

 

**II.**

The Quantum Veil, or simply “the Veil” for short, is an enigma that, even today, researchers are still desperate to understand. Little is known about the Veil outside myths, rumors, and what little data that has been researched through the use of Dream Mist.  
  
As it stands now, the Veil is mostly known to be a sort of mental barrier that exists between demihumans and mortals. Some demihumans, particularly those of the Fae Class, are more attuned to the Veil than any other, though there are some of the Psychic Class that are connected to it. The Veil tends to shield mortal vision from certain supernatural aspects—Transcendence, being the greatest example. But it can also be manipulated by certain species of Pokémon, such as the Musharna and Zoroark lines, and once the Veil is manipulated, it becomes known as “glamor”. It is theorized that certain Fairy-Types possess the ability to create and or utilize glamor, though this ability is not limited to Pokémon of this typing.  
  
Some research indicates that the Veil’s source may be located somewhere in Unova, in a place known in theory s the Quantum Vertex. The aboriginal populations that inhabit this area often refer to it as “the Knot”, claiming that it the spot where lives, both past and present, become entwined and, as the popular phrase goes, “the threads of Fate become hopelessly tangled”.  
  
What information that currently exists does so only from the divulgence of Aesith, who are more attuned to the Veil than any other demihuman or Pokémon currently in existence.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Remember when I said the pacing would pick up? Well, I meant it.
> 
> You have no idea how long I’ve been waiting to write this and how _cathartic_ it was to finally put it into text. I really hit my stride and am so thrilled with how this turned out.
> 
> And that officially ends Chapter Five! I’m going to try to keep the next chapter around or under three parts (hopefully).
> 
> So, did anyone notice how Alexa didn’t relay any commands? Well, that’s not normal, and will be touched on later.
> 
> Sorry the last part is just world building. The chapter just felt way too short in comparison to the others and I needed to fill the space somehow. The next update will be another Document, and it'll be coming on the twenty-ninth. Exactly a week from now.
> 
> In the meantime, enjoy!  
> Luna


	16. DOCUMENT 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: CLASSIFIED INFORMATION  
>  ANYONE CAUGHT READING THIS FILE WITHOUT THE PROPER AUTHORIZATION WILL BE LEVELED WITH ESPIONAGE CHARGES AND PUNISHED ACCORDINGLY.

* * *

 

 **CLASSIFIED FILE**  
**INTERNATIONAL POLICE, TEAM MYSTIC DIVISION**  
**PROJECT SANCTUM UPDATE**  
**DATE: 16/7/3034**

 

 

 

To whoever this goes to,

  
I’m aware that this first update is for you to properly vet my understanding of Transcendence (which will be codenamed as “Mega Evolution” in future reports, the IP’s paranoia and all) in order to judge if I am truly the best choice as lead scientist of Project Sanctum. So without further ado, let’s get started.  
  
While not common knowledge, Transcendence is not exactly a secret either. The general populace is aware of its existence, as well as the dangers it poses, but few are aware of the inner workings and mechanics.  
  
At it’s core, Transcendence is the process by which a Trainer pours their Aura into their Pokémon and strengthen them artificially. This link in Aura, in theory, was a way in which humans and Pokémon could connect on a more profound level, to transcend—pun intended—the artificial limits of specism, cultural divide, and even bigotry. It was a way to link souls, to achieve the sacred bond that regions with a heavy League influence often identify (there’s a saying in Kanto how a Trainer and their Pokémon can come to “share a soul”).  
  
However, theory does not always translate into reality. Pokémon possess two different Aura reserves—one for attacks, the other for sustaining their life-force. A Pokémon can fully deplete one of these reserves without any serious consequence. Humans, however, lack this, and possess only the one Aura reserve, which is linked directly to their life force. When Transcendence is activated (almost always utilizing a crystal called a Keystone, more on that later), it synchronizes the life-forces of both Pokémon and human, which effectively creates a mental link of sorts. However, the human’s life-force is continually funneled into the Pokémon in order to maintain its Transcended state, and if the human exerts too much Aura, they will eventually die.  
  
This is not to say that Transcendence alone is lethal. A human can easily cut the connection, and allow their Aura reserve to naturally replenish itself over time, a process that can take anywhere from a week to a handful of months. However, constant Aura depletion has an unfortunate way of corroding sanity, so those who use Transcendence long-term are likely to either die or lose their minds entirely. Not just that, but while their life-forces are synchronized, both Transcender and Transcendee are put in a rather vulnerable state. If one of them dies while Transcending, the other will die as well (wounds themselves aren’t transferrable, but the pain is). Furthermore, if the connection is somehow interrupted mid-Transcendence, the blowback can kill both human and Pokémon. Seems like a lot of unnecessary risk for some extra power, huh?  
  
Pokémon can also suffer from this process. Only a handful of Pokémon are actually “compatible” with Transcendence, meaning that they can sustain Transcendence in its truest form, and are often labelled as such because they possess a “Quantum Form”. This Form, stronger than usual, is unperceivable by mortal eyes due to the Veil’s interference. These compatible Pokémon have extra space in their secondary Aura reserve for the Aura provided by the human instigator, which activates a process that is similar to Evolution (hence the codename), but only temporary. Pokémon that are not compatible are labelled as such because they lack this extra space, and when a human floods their reserve with this extra Aura, it can create what I call the “overflow principle”. And when that happens... Well, let’s just say that you’ll end up scraping body parts off the walls.  
  
Ahem, now, this process requires a device called a Keystone. Keystones, when activate, are the catalyst to Transcendence, and are what allow Transcendence to occur in the first place. Aura is always flowing through them, whether it’s stray Aura from a passing human, the Veil itself, or even just the Aura of a particular place or area (these are usually places that were once considered holy sites by ancient civilizations). However, when activated, Keystones hone in on the closest resonator of human Aura, and then seek out the closest Pokémon. At this point, the human has very little control over their own Aura flow, but it’s not unheard for those with Psychic capabilities to have some sway over their Aura flow, at least in the sense of which direction the Aura flows towards and which Pokémon it latches onto. Now, when I was working on my graduate thesis, I discovered that Keystones—these marble-sized crystals—are actually composed of solidified photons. Solid light, basically.  
  
(That discovery what earned me my PhD, might I add, and my name in quite a few peer-reviewed journals. My first claim to fame. So when I talk about Keystones, I know what I’m doing.)  
  
Keystones act less like conduits and more like filters. They conduct Aura in the same way that metal conducts electricity, but it also does an excellent job of filtering out a lot of negative emotions and feelings. Keystones don’t quite process these things, so they end up getting trapped. This is a process we call “corruption”. Corrupted Keystones have a weird way of working, somehow becoming more efficient the more corrupted they are. It’s why people don’t replace Keystones (well, that and the fact that they’re notoriously difficult to get their hands on, likely because of the aforementioned dangers). Now, corrupted Keystones, which are clogged up with all this negativity, end up reintroducing this negativity to the Transcending human over and over again. And these emotions end up amplified within the Keystone as well, which only compounds to the whole “corrosion of sanity” issue. Jealousy, hatred, wrath. After all this continued exposure to negativity, it’s understandable how it can completely consume the Transcender. And it’s no picnic for the Pokémon, either—the more corrupted the Keystone, the less mutuality that exists within the Transcended bond and the less autonomy the Pokémon experiences during Transcendence.  
  
Aesith. The one word that can make a Transcender tremble. Aesith are the only human beings in the world that are immune to the effects of Transcendence. They have a sort of supernatural willpower over their Aura, which allows them to initiate Transcendence without the utilization of a Keystone. However, this takes a lot of practice, so Aesith will often use Keystones to help them monitor Transcendence. Keystones used by Aesith don’t become corrupt, and retain their current state so long as they are used by the Aesith. Aesith can also monitor their own Aura flow so as to Transcend with incompatible Pokémon, by trickling Aura into the reserve rather than absolutely flooding it. The Aura of an Aesith also replenishes itself almost instantly, allowing them to perpetuate Transcendence for an infinite period, without the risk of death (though they can run the risk of putting themselves in a comatose state, a “stasis” similar to that utilized by Poké Balls, if they overexert themselves) or sanity corrosion. In addition, not only can they can perceive Quantum Forms through their affinity with the Veil, but, as recently discovered in the case of Charizard, it has been reported that they can access a secondary Quantum Form that cannot be acquired by normal Transcendence. Aesith are known to be fiercely protective of Keystones, too, and tend to hunt down those who abuse Transcendence.  
  
Now, from what I understand, Project Sanctum has three objectives: **  
**

  * One, find a way to cleanse the corruption from Keystones.
  * Two, find a way to make Quantum Forms perceptible to those not gifted with Eyes That Pierce The Veil.
  * Three, find a way to keep Transcendence from being abused.



  
Personally, I think an Aesith would be very helpful in achieving these objectives. Now I understand that it’s not really professional to make requests like this on your first day, but may I also remind you: I’ve studied Transcendence longer than anyone else, and I’m the leading professional in this field. Hell, I’m pretty sure I’m the only one studying Transcendence who isn’t a crackpot or a conspiracy theorist. You asked me to lead Project Sanctum for a reason, yet you have the nerve to demand I present a rudimentary understanding of the subject matter, never mind the fact that it was certain breakthroughs in this field that made my career. And, frankly, I’m a little insulted.  
  
I think I’ve said all I need to. I’m going to get to work now (might as well start now, in case you change your mind and dismiss me next week). I look forward to gaining enough respect to not be treated like a common schoolteacher. Merci beaucoup, au revoir. **  
**

 

—Professor Augustine Lazarus Sycomore, Ph.D., M.D., Sc.D.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sycomore is salty.


	17. Chapter 6: Entrainement (Part 1)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The aftermath

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh, no, this story is not dead. I am just super behind on this.

**Chapter 6—Entraînement**  
(noun)

  * French for “training”, “practice”, or “coaching”



 

“ _Last night,  
I saw the fear and the fire  **burn in your eyes**  
The  **way you were looking at me**  like a deer in headlights  
Didn’t they tell you to  **not bring a knife to a gunfight**?_ ”  
—“Team”, Krewella

 

  
Viola had lost a lot of blood, and they were lucky to get her medical treatment in time. Alexa hadn’t forbidden treatment—something Celestine wasn’t aware was even  _within_  a Gym Leader’s authority—so, within two hours, the younger Dupuis sister was laying unconscious in a cot, comatose but stable. The only sign of life was the period jump of the green line on the monitor, punctuated by a piercing beep.  
  
Celestine regarded the former Gym Leader behind a glass window, the ghost of her reflection staring back at her with an unsmiling mouth and flinty eyes. A nurse was replacing Viola’s depleted blood bag with a fresh one, bright red traveling down a sinuous IV tube. The impromptu bandage made from Hayami’s frubbles had helped immensely, the doctors had said. It had stalled the major hemorrhaging and had probably saved her life. Now she lay among the hundreds—maybe thousands—of Alexa's victims, all packed tightly in this cramped, overflowing ICU.  
  
The wound would likely scar, though. The memory would be permanent, where the air pressure has turned sharp enough to slice flesh and bone. Forever, Viola would look in the mirror and recall the incident where Alexa had almost killed her.  
  
Her own sister.  
  
Celestine placed her hand on the glass, but her fingers were too numb to feel the chill.   
  
She caught movement in her peripheral and glanced over to see Calem settling next to her. He’d put Hayami away for now, and he watched the nurse leave Viola’s cot to tend to another patient with a stony expression. Tierno had left to escort Rinka to the Center, but Calem had stayed, a thousand things burning behind his eyes.  
  
The ICU was surprisingly empty, all the doctors and nurses off in the many rooms, tending to their many patients, and the hallways were practically barren. Staccato beeping of heart monitors and life support flooded the air like an eerie requiem, punctuated by the occasional agonized groan or wet cough. Here, enveloped in the symphony of the sick and dying, they were practically alone, two souls staring at the same image, but there might as well have been a chasm between them, as far as Celestine was concerned. Calem may have watched the same battle, but he didn’t understand the implications, hadn’t seen what she had. One of the virtues—and curses—of being Aesith, she mused bitterly.  
  
His reflection turned to her, an inferno burning in his eyes. “What the fucking hell are you thinking?”  
  
The hand on the glass slowly curled into a fist. She let it drop back down to her side, kept her eyes fixed forward. “Yeah, I  _really_  don’t want to have this conversation right now.”  
  
“Well that’s too fucking  _bad_!” Calem snapped, his voice harsh with an anger that she’d only heard from him once—when Alistair had lay on the gymnasium floor of Aquacorde High, broken and bloody. “You just challenged a fucking  _Berserker_  to a Gym Battle! The  _hell_  was going through your mind there, huh?!”  
  
Something hard squeezed at her vocal chords. When she narrowed her eyes at her reflection, it mirrored her, and her face was so naturally pale that you’d almost believe she was carved from ice. “That’s none of your business.”  
  
His upper lips curled back into something almost feral, eyes flashing. “It  _is_  my business when you put your team in danger like this!”  
  
“No. It’s really  _not_.” She crossed her arms and tried to pretend it was because she was fighting back of a pang of indignance and not hugging herself for comfort, recalling the blank look in the Scizor’s unnaturally-blue eyes and the ease with which it sliced its opponent in two. “It’s my team, and  _my_  job to look after them. Not  _yours_.”  
  
“Yeah, and you’re doing a  _fan-fucking-tastic_  job,” Calem drawled, his voice thick with sarcasm. Celestine didn’t needed to face him to know how deathly cold his gaze was. She could simply feel it against her skin, frigid and unrelenting. “In one day, you’ve allowed a member of your team to get put in critical, leaped onto the field with a Pokémon that killed its opponent only a matter of seconds beforehand, and challenged a literal  _Berserker_  to a Reaper Battle. Yes, Celestine. You’re Trainer of the fucking Year.”  
  
She bristled, fury bursting inside her chest. Her shoulders were trembling slightly. “What the hell else was I  _supposed_  to do?!”  
  
His reflection threw his arms up in frustration. “Let  _someone else_ —someone  _more qualified_ —handle the situation!”  
  
“Who? The League?” She briefly envisioned a Kalosian official, clean-pressed suit and pencil mustache and a charming, oily white smile as he spoke eloquently of politics and other bureaucratic nonsense, and the thought made her lip curl. No, what this Gym needed was an official of Kantonian nature, warlike and willing to do whatever necessary, to fix this mess. “You heard what Viola said earlier—the League didn’t do jack shit! Which really says a lot about Kalos’s priorities, doesn’t it? I bet the  _reason_  no one has any idea of what’s going on here is because of this morbid fascination politics.”  
  
It wasn’t meant to be a personal affront, but you wouldn’t have guessed that from the way Calem bristled and the way his eyes blazed. “Considering the elections decide the Prime Minister and governing body, I’d say there’s a reason for them to capture the region’s attention,  _yeah_. But if the League  _were_  aware of what was going on, they’d  _probably_ step in! I have a contact in the League who could—”  
  
“Your ex?” she asked, voice sweet and condescending all at once. She chanced a look at him from her peripheral.  
  
The left side of his face twitched. “I’m talking about a  _different_  contact—one that’s much higher up.”  
  
Well, that raised some questions in of itself, but that really wasn’t the point right now. Celestine shook her head gravely, her nails biting into the underside of her elbows. “And I’m just supposed to wait in the meantime while the body count rises?  _Hell_  no. If I can do something about it now, I’m gonna do something!”  
  
“In three weeks!” Calem shot back belligerently.  
  
That was the last straw holding her patience back. She snapped her head in his direction, meeting the furious intensity in his eyes with her own. “I  _need_  time to train my team to a sufficient level,” she growled. “And I’ve heard a  _lot_  of stories about how slow Leagues are to react when their primary government clashes with them—three weeks is  _light-speed_  in comparison!”  
  
He let out a frustrated noise that was somewhere between a grunt and a growl, clearly trying to regain some composure but failing miserably. “My  _contact_  could push this to the forefront of the League’s agenda.”  
  
“And how long will  _that_  take?!” She swore she was drawing blood now, with how hard her nails were pressing into her skin, and her heartbeat throbbed against her temples, hot and angry. “At least  _this_  way, the Gym will have to stay closed in anticipation for the match and possible change in ownership. At least this way, there won’t be any casualties in the meantime!”  
  
Calem made a few wild gesticulations with his hands, face twisted with irritation and muttering incoherent Kalosian, before he took a deep, calming breath and looked her in the eye again. “You don’t want the title, though.”  
  
Oh dear Birds, he could  _not_  be this stupid. “No shit, Sherlock.”  
  
“Then why the challenge?” he demanded, exasperated.  
  
“Well I needed to get her attention  _somehow_.” What did migraines feel like? She was pretty sure she was getting a migraine.  
  
“ _Why_ , pray tell?” Now it was his turn to sound sweetly condescending, and she was almost impressed—had it not been directed at her. As it was, she scowled, and his eyes were dark as midnight. “I mean, I get that you’re a veteran Trainer and you’re way more experienced, but why do you need to do this? Is it, like, some unresolved white knight complex hidden under that abrasive exterior of yours, or is there some other, deeper, physical, non-psychological reason that you won’t allow—oh, gee, I don’t know!—an  _actual trained professional_  to handle this?”  
  
She turned away sharply, her gaze finding its way back to Viola’s sickbed. The woman looked uncomfortably pale and far too still, borderline lifeless. Unbidden, Celestine thought of Alexa’s deathly pallor, the mania in her smile, the lack of coherency in her eyes.  
  
“Only someone like me can do this.”  
  
A beat of silence—and Celestine realized too late she’d voiced her thought out loud.  
  
“...the hell are you talking about?” The harshness in Calem’s voice had given way to something warier, and she could feel his gaze searching her profile.  
  
Well. Shit. She hadn’t meant to say that. She hadn’t meant to say  _anything_. Dragging him into this was a mistake, screamed every rational part of her. But, a second and equally rational part of her argued, he already knew she was Aesith, didn’t he? He was probably already figuring it out—she could see it in the expression of his reflection, the metaphorical gears turning behind his eyes.  
  
She exhaled through her nostrils. If he was going to figure out anyway, then no harm, no foul, right? “I’ll give you thirty seconds to work it out, Lafayette.”  
  
A beat of silence.  
  
Then Calem groaned and, from her peripheral, she saw him pinch the bridge of his nose. “Are you  _shitting_  me?”  
  
Huh. Maybe he wasn’t so stupid after all.  
  
“Fucking—!” His reflection shook his head, dropping his hand. “I  _knew_  something was off.”  
  
She frowned, sneaking a sidelong glance at him. “You did?”  
  
“Well, I mean, I can’t see through the Veil or anything,” he said, sounding both tired and exasperated, as he turned back to the window, “but this isn’t the first time I’ve seen Transcendence.”  
  
Her brows rose, three parts surprised and one part intrigued. “ _Really_?”  
  
“Mm, yeah. There’s sort of this... I dunno, a  _vibe_ , y’know? Like, the image sorta flickers, like a glitchy hologram—except it’s  _really_  subtle and you don’t notice it unless you’re paying super-close attention.”  
  
Interesting, interesting. But that could wait. “So you see why I have to do this now?”  
  
A pause, during which his expression morphed into something almost pained. “...I. Guess so, yeah. That explains a lot. My god.”  
  
She grunted.  
  
He sighed and started massaging the bridge of his nose again. “You do realize you’re not the only Aesith in Kalos, though, right? Like, there’s this one girl, Korrina, who—”  
  
“Is where, exactly?” she cut in curtly. “Not here, right? Well, I am. And while I’m here, it’s my responsibility, as a Trainer to deal with a corrupt Gym Leader—and as an Aesith, to deal with one that’s abusing Transcendence.”  
  
“...fair enough.”  
  
They lapsed into another silence until a doctor approached them and asked them to leave, because they were disturbing the nurses.  _With their shouting_ , was the unspoken message. As they were leaving, Calem got a text from Trevor demanding that they return to the Center, claiming it was urgent (“Knowing Tierno, he’s probably staged an intervention by now,” Calem said with a humorless laugh—it was probably meant to be a joke, but it was delivered far too flatly). Which was how they ended up walking back to the Center together, the silence now very tense and prickly and uncomfortable.  
  
After a minute or two of solid quiet, Calem stuffed his hands into the pockets of his jacket and spoke up. “I’m still going to call my contact—see if I can get the League to act.”  
  
A spike of irritation went through her. “Seriously? After I  _just_  finished explaining—”  
  
“Cool off, Lavieaux,” he interrupted, voice flat. “I’m hoping they can intervene before you have to face Alexa. And if not, they’ll make a great cavalry in case things get out of hand—y’know, just in case.”  
  
She took a moment to let his words and their implications sink in.  
  
Calem was helping her.  
  
...huh.  
  
She regarded him skeptically. “...what’s your angle?”  
  
Calem stopped, stunned, and she did too. He blinked at her dumbly. “Pardon?”  
  
Her expression didn’t change, save for the slow arch of her left brow. “Don’t look so offended! I mean,  _c’mon_. It’s no secret that you’re not exactly my number one fan. If it’s any consolation—I’m not very fond of you myself. And yet you’re risking your neck for me? You expect me to believe that, no questions asked? Sorry, pal, I don’t exactly buy charity acts unless they’re from someone like Shauna, who’s, y’know, the type of person to do that selfless shit. You, on the other hand, don’t strike me as the chivalrous type. So again, and this time with a little more candor: Why are you helping me?”  
  
He scowled, as if he’d tasted something foul. “How self-involved  _are_  you?”  
  
Now it was her turn to blink dumbly, the skepticism slipping right off her face. “Eh?”  
  
“This has nothing to do with you,” he snapped, as if offended that she’s suggest otherwise. She could see the outline of his hands clenching into fists inside his pockets. “This is about  _Alexa_ , and how what she’s doing is wrong. So, yeah, I’m gonna try to stop her however I can. Coincidentally, you’re doing the same. I’m not going out of my way to help you—like you said, I think you’re a condescending bitch. But, it just so happens that we’re on the same side, and that’s it. No ulterior motive, no connection to you, no ‘chivalry act’, no  _nothing whatsoever_. End of story. Sorry to disappoint you.”  
  
He started moving forward again, grumbling something under his breath in unintelligible Kalosian. Celestine stood there for a moment longer, though, her mind taking a few extra seconds to properly digest this statement, her gaze fixed on his retreating back. Unconsciously, her lips curled into a smirk.  
  
She couldn’t believe she was saying this, but Calem might be the most reasonable person she’d met in Kalos so far.  
  
She jogged to catch up and fell back into step with him.  
  
They lapsed into another silence, and Celestine allowed her mind to wander. She thought about the day she and Calem had met, about how vehemently they’d been at each other’s throats. Had they met under some other circumstance, might they have gotten along, perhaps? Had they met under different circumstances, would they have been... maybe, allies? Friends? What would have happened if she hadn’t been ignorant about the ethics of Reaper Battles in his home region, and vice versa?  
  
An uncomfortable prickling sensation filled her lungs as she recalled Alistair, and how he’d had to pay the price for her ignorance.  
  
“Hey,” she said, before she could stop herself. She had to fight to keep her eyes raised, to keep looking ahead, instead of down at her feet (old habits, it’s considered a show of respect to look down). “I’m—I’m sorry about... about Alistair.”  
  
She felt Calem’s eyes on her, but, again, she kept her eyes forward. The red roof of the Center peeked out over the roofs of the other buildings, shiny and new in contrast the rest of the historical structures.  
  
“I—I mean it. I  _am_  sorry.” It came out more awkward than she’d meant, more forced. Ugh, why was this so  _impossible_? “I’m not just saying it because you’re helping me—though I am a little pissed by that ‘condescending bitch’ remark. Look, I... I admit it. I went too far. That’s on me. I have to make up for it. I should have admitted it before, but I’m stubborn and bitchy and it takes me a while to admit I’m wrong. So I’m sorry about that, too.”  
  
Again, he didn’t say anything.  
  
She stopped, suddenly, and, on impulse, grabbed his arm, forced him to come to stop. He whirled around to glare at her, and while she didn’t appreciate it while she was apologizing, at least it was an  _improvement_. Because she was digging deep here, dammit, grasping for something, and the least he could do was look her in the eye and  _acknowledge_  her.  
  
“Look, I— I’m not saying this is an excuse or anything but— I  _honestly_  didn’t know how Reaper Battles worked here. I expected it to be like Kanto, but it wasn’t.” She stopped, suddenly. Her grip on Calem’s arm tightened, briefly, before she let go and let her hand drop to her side. His gaze was just so  _intense_ , so she let her eyes drop to her shoes in a traditional display of respect. “…I guess— I guess I was expecting a lot of things to be just like Kanto, and when they turned out to be so  _different_ , I... It’s all these  _little things_  that just, just made me realize how far I was from home. And I got  _frustrated_ , and I know it’s no excuse, but the battle sort of became a flashpoint and I just—! I ended up taking it out on you and Alistair. And I’m  _sorry_  for that, really—”  
  
“You don’t owe me an explanation,” Calem interrupted.  
  
She curled her hands into fists, but forced them to unclench. “Maybe, but... You deserve one. I can imagine how terrifying that must have been, to watch that happen to one of your Pokémon. If it had been  _me_ , I’d go ballistic. I treated you like you were in the wrong, and you weren’t, and... I’m not good at apologies, okay? I’m the sort of person that would die before admitting their mistakes, and I’m proud and stubborn and I hold grudges like nobody’s busine— Mmph!”  
  
And she couldn’t say anything else, because Calem’s finger had pressed itself against her mouth. Her gaze snapped back to his face.  
  
He stared at her down his nose. “Look, I don’t need your life’s story, I get the idea. Consider this an official acceptance of your apology—now you can shut up.”  
  
She smacked his hand away with a growl. “Forget it. I take back everything I said. You’re a fucking asshole.”  
  
“Well, you’re a condescending bitch, so I guess we’re even.”  
  
He started walking again. She huffed and followed him. Silence reigned again, but it was a little less tense, and it slipped over Celestine’s skin in a way that was irritating but comfortable, like an itchy old sweater given to you by your aunt on Christmas. It itches like hell, but you wear it anyway, because it’s warm enough to keep out the cold.  
  
That was what the silence was like.

* * *

The Center was in a state of low-key panic, whispers flying around everywhere, and it felt like they’d somehow stepped into a warzone, where venomous rumors were shot instead of bullets. The sound of gossip practically slapped Celestine in the face the moment she stepped through the door, and she was about ninety-one percent sure it hadn’t been nearly this crowded when she’d last been here.  
  
No sign of Rinka, though. Maybe she was at home or something. Or being tended to behind closed doors, to keep her from being turned into a spectacle. To keep her away from this warzone of gossip and rumors and whispers.  
  
“Can you call Tierno and asked him where they are?” Celestine asked, turning to Calem. The whispers grated against her eardrums, bullets bouncing off her skin.  
  
He’d already whipped out his Caster and was texting them, letters appearing on the holographic screen. A moment later, it pinged, announcing the reply that appeared, and his mouth dipped into a frown as he scanned the screen.  
  
“They’re in your room, apparently,” he said, dispelling the screen and pocketing his Caster.  
  
Celestine blinked. “Wait, what?”  
  
“Yup. Which floor are you on?”  
  
“Um, first.” She blinked again, her brain still trying to process. “How did they get into my room?”  
  
“Rena’s a researcher, remember? And you have a Dex registered to your licence. Researchers are given access to the rooms of Trainers like that,” Calem explained, making his way over to the door marked “rental rooms”.  
  
People were whispering and staring at them, but Celestine ignored them. “Is that really necessary for researchers here?”  
  
They reached the door, and Calem opened it, raising his brows coyly. “Remember who Rena works for.”  
  
Sycomore-Hakase. Who literally did not understand boundaries. “...right.”  
  
The hallway was branched off into about five different halls, A-E. An elevator was located to Celestine’s right, probably meant for people to find their way to halls F through Z. To her puzzlement, Calem made his way over to said elevator.  
  
“Okay, I’m have to go and get something from my room,” Calem explained to her puzzled look. He pressed the up button. “I’ll join you and the others later.”  
  
She frowned. “You don’t know which room is mine.”  
  
The elevator doors opened with a ding. Calem flashed her a smirk as he stepped in. “Don’t worry. I’ll just find the one with the most shouting.”  
  
The doors closed before Celestine could respond.  
  
A furious huff left her as she turned away and stormed down the hall labelled B. She swiped her Card into the reader with such vehemence that it was a miracle the thing wasn’t sliced in half.  
  
She threw the door opened—and was immediately greeted by Tierno, along with Shauna, Serena, and Trevor. They all looked up suddenly, in an uncanny unison, with expressions that ranged from startled to concerned. Celestine took a moment to take in the sight: Tierno was crosslegged on the floor (zen-style), Trevor (holding a digital tablet in his hands that he’d been tapping on) and Shauna on either side of the bed (with the gift basket having been moved to beneath Shauna’s legs), and Serena leaning back against the wall (and yeah, now Celestine   
could see the resemblance between her and Calem).  
  
Celestine sighed and closed the door. Calem was right—this was a fucking intervention.  
  
“Great,” Trevor grumbled, throwing the tablet down on the bed. “Now I owe Serena fifty bucks.”  
  
She blinked. “Eh?”  
  
“I, uh.” He hesitated, his expression shifting to sheepish, and he rubbed absently at the back of his head. “May have bet Serena I couldn’t finish beta-ing her notes before you showed up?” He cast Serena a look, the nerves melting a little. “By the way, Serena, your syntax is terrible.”  
  
Serena scowled. “I was writing in a hurry. Sue me.”  
  
“I counted, like, twenty errors.”  
  
“Again, speed writing!”  
  
Shauna’s gaze wandered to Celestine’s shoulder and got stuck there, her eyes widening, her face losing color rapidly. “...is that blood?”  
  
Celestine looked down at her shirt, and noticed for the first time the great dark stain on the shoulder of her shirt. A matching on marred the outer thigh of her jeans. Viola’s blood. “Ah, yes. But, it’s... not mine.”  
  
Shauna’s face went blank with horror. Tierno eyed her silently, sadly, and even Trevor and Serena broke off from their conversation stare at Celestine with mild concern.  
  
Celestine grabbed the strap of her bag and wrung it out in her hands. Their gazes itched on her skin like fire, and suddenly, she couldn’t stand it anymore—standing here, open, exposed. She crossed her arms over her chest. “I’m going to go change. Yeah. ‘Scuse me.”  
  
She jumped passed Tierno’s legs and slipped into the bathroom before anyone could stop her, the door slamming shut.  
  
Celestine groaned, leaning back against the door, running a hang through her bangs. Birds, this was why she needed to do things alone. She didn’t have time for this—trying to justify herself to others, worrying about them worrying about her, and, just...  _Ugh_.  
  
Just change clothes, Lavieaux. Just change clothes.  
  
She tossed her bag onto the toilet and pulled out her Storage Key—a flat, rectangular computer chip. Thirteen seconds of scrolling later, a blue laser deposited a fresh set of de-digitized clothes on the counter, and she deposited the device back into her bag.  
  
There was a rapping at the door.  
  
Celestine shucked off her bloodstained shirt. “Whoever it is, go away.”  
  
The door opened and Celestine jumped, whirling around. Shauna slipped in and closed it behind her, minty eyes glinting sternly.  
  
Celestine blinked. Shauna stared.  
  
The Kantonian turned away and dropped her shirt in the sink. “Do you usually barge in on people when they’re changing? Because that’s something creepers do.”  
  
“I need to talk to you,” Shauna said coolly. As Celestine grabbed the soap and started scrubbing at the bloodstain, she noticed Shauna’s reflection, the critical gleam in her eyes.  
  
“We are talking. Right now.” Celestine put the soap back and ran the faucet, watching as the water turned red as it swirled the drain.  _Damn, I’m going to need to pay for laundry, aren’t I?_  “Are you seriously going to watch?”  
  
The reflection arched a brow. “Do you want me to turn around?”  
  
Celestine smiled wryly, turning the water off and tossing the wet shirt to the side of the counter. “Well, it would be awkward for you to watch me take my bra off.”  
  
The reflection blinked rapidly, face going blank. “Why would you—”  
  
“Changing into workout clothes so I can start training immediately.” She knelt down to untie her boots, eyeing the reflection fingered the rim of the counter. “I don’t mind—we’re both girls—I just don’t want you to start complaining.”  
  
Shauna’s reflection rolled her eyes and turned around, arms crossing.  
  
Celestine kicked her boots off. The linoleum was cool underfoot, and the lingering mist from the shower she’d taken earlier made every breath a little heavier.  
  
“What the hell are you thinking?” Shauna blurted, breaking the silence.  
  
Celestine shucked her jeans off and threw them into the sink. She grabbed the soap again. “Shauna, I’ve already had this talk with Calem. Please don’t make me repeat it.”  
  
“Well in this case, I’m gonna have to agree with Cali-kinz here,” Shauna bit out. “This is a terrible idea.”  
  
Celestine paused, her hand frozen on the faucet. “Cali-kinz?”  
  
“That’s not important,” the Hoennian snapped. “That’s, like, the least important point I have to make. You’re taking an unnecessary risk here! Tierno told me about what happened in there, and then you just  _decided_ —”  
  
“You realize we’re having conversation while I’m in my underwear?” Celestine grabbed the folded pair of black and red leggings in the corner and started to slip them on.  
  
“Stop trying to change the subject!” Shauna exploded. The shoulders of her reflection were hunched and tight, trembling slightly with a sort of bottled fury. “You just challenged a Berserker to a Reaper Battle! Like— Like, what the  _shit_?”  
  
Celestine shimmied a little as she pulled the fabric up over her hips. “I don’t have to explain myself to you. My decisions aren’t—and  _never will be_ —your business.”  
  
“I just want to know what’s going on with you!” Shauna uncrossed her arms, fingers curling into fists. “Like, one minute, we’re talking, and we’re having fun, and I feel like I’m  _finally_  getting through to you—and then you just— Just  _clam_  up! Like,  _no explanation_  or anything! What’s  _up_  with that?!”  
  
The air felt cool and heavy on Celestine’s exposed stomach and shoulders. “I’m not the sort of person you should be hanging around, Shauna.”  
  
“Oh my god, not  _this_  again!” Shauna’s reflection cranes her head back to look at the ceiling, huffy. “Don’t pull this bull, Celestine. Who  _I_  talk to and associate with isn’t something  _you_  get to decide. My actions are  _my_  decision,  _not_  yours. Don’t say stuff like ‘you shouldn’t hang around me’. If I wanna hang around you, I’ll hang around you—Behemoth knows you need some optimism to balance out your cynicism.”  
  
“First of all, I take offense to that.” Celestine sloughed her bra off and started slipping the sports bra over her head. “Secondly, by that logic, shouldn’t I be allowed to make my own decisions? Like, who I battle, for example?”  
  
“Normally, yeah—but this a  _Berserker_  we’re talking about.” Cautiously, Shauna chanced a glance at the Kantonian as Celestine swept her hair over her shoulder. “Like, your team is only a week old, and this Alexa chick is using a Scizor? No, that—that’s not a rational decision. That’s suicide.”  
  
Celestine turned to face her, throwing her hair back. “So what if it is?”  
  
“So you can’t just throw your life around like that!” Shauna snapped, whirling around to face Celestine so sharply, her left pigtail slapped her cheek.  
  
“Again—still my decision, in the end.”  
  
Shauna’s eyes narrowed. “And what about your team, Celestine? Do you get to make that decision for them? Don’t they get a say? As it is now, you’re risking their lives—hell, they’re on the frontline! Shouldn’t  _they_  get a say in this to? Have you even  _consulted_  them?”  
  
“That’s exactly what I was going to do.” Celestine made a move to step towards the door. “Now, if you’ll excuse me—”  
  
But Shauna suddenly blocked the door, eyes burning. “Don’t just fucking walk away from me. We’re not finished.”  
  
Celestine’s eyes narrowed. “Move.”  
  
“Not until you  _listen_  to me!” Shauna shouted.  
  
“ _Move_.”  
  
“Back out,” Shauna said coldly, her voice suddenly deathly quiet. Celestine didn’t even realize Shauna could sound threatening, and it would have been amusing if she weren’t pissing Celestine off. “You need to back out, like,  _yesterday_. This is too dangerous. You’re not doing this.”  
  
“ _Shauna_ —”  
  
“Don’t you ‘Shauna’ me, like this is  _no big deal_!” Shauna’s voice is sharper now. She’s not afraid to be angry anymore. Her gaze bores into Celestine, challenging, daring. “This isn’t you like dying your hair or getting a tattoo, Celestine! This is a  _fucking Reaper Battle_. I  _don’t care_  how much of veteran you are—I  _can’t_  let you do this. I wouldn’t be able to look myself in the mirror ever again if I didn’t stop you.”  
  
Oh Birds.  
  
Celestine shook her head. Ridiculous. Fucking ridiculous. “Okay, Shauna, listen the fuck up. I am not here to make you feel like a Good Samaritan. If I wanna get myself into shit, that’s none of your fucking business and shouldn’t even be a blip on your conscience.”  
  
Shauna’s brows rose. “Wait—you think I’m doing this to  _feel better_  about myself? Oh my  _god_.” She scoffed, looking at Celestine in exasperation. “I can’t believe you would honestly  _think_  that!”  
  
“Well what am I  _supposed_  to think?” Celestine fired back. “You honestly expect me to believe that you’re just doing this out of the goodness of your heart? Like  _hell_! You don’t even  _know_  me! We’re not friends, Shauna! You don’t care about total strangers!”  
  
“Well I  _do_!”  
  
“ _Why_?”  
  
“Because  _someone_  has to!” Shauna shouted, her composure starting to crack. There was a tremor and her voice, and it hit the octave above it for a moment. “ _Someone_  has to got to convince you that you aren’t this big, bad bitch who’s  _alone_  in the world and that  _no one_  cares about her, because I know that  _somewhere_ , deep down, you are a good,  _kind_ person who needs to know that someone  _does_  care about her—and goddammit,  _fine_!  _I’ll_  be that person! Not because I  _need_  to, but because I  _want_  to, and I feel like  _you_  need it! I think you need a  _friend_ , goddammit.  
  
“And as your friend—I just  _can’t let you to fucking do this_! Not to  _yourself_ , because Tierno told me that Berserker lady attacks the challengers and I  _don’t_  want you to end up in the hospital. And not to your  _team_ , which don’t deserve to be put in harm’s way for your pride. Some I’m gonna say it again, and this time take into consideration that— _crazy_  as it might be for you to believe—I say this because I  _genuinely_  care about your wellbeing: _back the fuck out_.”   
  
Celestine’s throat constricted around her diaphragm, vocal chords strangling her from the inside out. Birds, leave it to Shauna to be utterly selfless, to go out of her way to not only see the good in people but try and bring it to the surface. Leave it to Shauna to have such a genuinely pure sentiment...  
  
...and completely waste it on a situation she didn’t comprehend.  
  
Celestine grabbed her bag and slung it over her shoulder.  
  
“First of all, you don’t need to worry about me. I’ll be fine.” Celestine was Aesith. If the legends were to be believed, then she was protected by the Goddess’s blessing, and no force on earth could stop her from dying before her time—before old age wore away at her flesh and bone. The worst that could happen was that she could be put into a coma, but she’d recover within a week or two. “Second of all, I’m going to consult my team right now. I won’t force them into something, and if they do agree, I can guarantee you that I will take  _every possible measure_  to keep them safe.” Of course she would. She wasn’t a Berserker, didn’t see them as expendable. She needed a strong team, and it would do her no good to start over. “And third of all, I appreciate the sentiment, Shauna, but this isn’t about  _you_. Not about you caring about me, or worrying about me, or me needing a friend or whatever the hell kind of bullshit you think is going on.  
  
“I’ve decided to do this, regardless of how you feel.” She crossed her arms and made a half-assed effort at looking apologetic, because she sort of was. Just a little. “And as a Trainer, I can’t back down. I won’t back down. So thank you, for saying that, but it doesn’t change my mind.”  
  
Shauna stared at her in utter disbelief for about sixteen second before she blinked, and the spell was broken. Her expression was flooded by utter dismay, and those crestfallen eyes squeezed at Celestine’s heart.  
  
She was sorry. Really, truly. But she was not about to suck Shauna into a Transcendence war.  
  
“You’re really gonna make your team suffer for your pride?” Shauna asked, a little out of breath. Stunned, off-balance, uncomprehending.  
  
“This isn’t even about— Dammit, Shauna, just move already.” Celestine made a move to brush past Shauna, but the Hoennian’s demeanor changed suddenly. Shauna crossed her arms, her body language morphing into an indominable will of sorts, one that made Celestine jerk back suddenly.  
  
Shauna’s voice shook as she spoke, a light tremor that bellied an overwhelming resolve. “You are going to back, or I’m going to call the Professor and ask very nicely for him to suspend your licence.”  
  
Celestine’s jaw went slack.  
  
Okay, what the fuck. Where did this even come from. Since when was Shauna assertive what was happening right now.  
  
And then a slow coal of anger solidified in the pit of her stomach, and her fingers curled into fists at her side.  
  
“Say that again,” Celestine dared her, something dangerous having found its way into her voice. A set of metaphorical claws, usually sheathed, being stretched and played with, like a muscle that had gone to sleep after a few hours of disuse.  
  
The tone seemed to rattle Shauna, just a little bit, but she steadied herself again. “The Professor is the one who got you your Kalosian licence—your sponsor, right? He can take it away, too. And if I tell him that you’re purposely putting your team in jeopardy, he’s going to have to.”  
  
He wouldn’t. Hakase understood her Aesith nature and all the fucking bells and whistles that came with it. He’s protest—oh hell, he’d protest vehemently, but she knew that when push came to shove, he wouldn’t confiscate her license. Penalize her, maybe, not confiscate. Not nullify.  
  
He’d probably contact the warden, though. Celestine thought of the contact in her phone—Beladonis—and winced internally. That would be a fucking nightmare in of itself.  
  
“You don’t even know what you’re talking about,” Celestine snapped. Her nails sank into her skin, harder, harder, harder. “You don’t even know what you’re fucking  _doing_. Or what you’re playing with.”  
  
“Do  _you_?” Shauna shot back.  
  
Celestine’s patience had reached its limit, and her composure crumbled away like brittle autumn leaves, brown and decayed. “Yes, Shauna, I  _do_! I’m the  _only one_  of us who knows what’s going on, and you  _think_  you know, but you  _really don’t_! So  _move out of my way already_!”  
  
“I already told you—I can’t let you fucking get away with this!” Shauna snarled, protective, borderline vicious. Had it been any other circumstance, Celestine might have admired it, but it only drove her over the edge.  
  
“And I can’t let  _her_  fucking get away with this!” Celestine screeched back.  
  
The roiling fury in Shauna’s eyes stilled. “Her? Her  _who_?”  
  
“That  _bitch_! That fucking—!“ Celestine’s voice warbled and trembled, shrieking and screeching and they could probably hear her through the fucking door but fuck them, fuck Shauna, fuck everything. Her veins burned with venom, hatred and disgust too great to even name, and her head pounded in tune with her thunderous heartbeat and blood roared in her ears like a fucking beast, and lights burst behind her eyes, bright blue and vibrant, little Infinity Crosses. “That  _woman_ , who—who takes the reputation of a  _Gym_  and  _runs it through the fucking mud_! Who senselessly kills  _for her own amusement_! Pokémon, people, challengers, she just hurts and hurts and  _makes them bleed_  and she  _doesn’t even care_  if she kills them because she just wants to  _fucking hurt something_! She doesn’t even see the  _difference_ , they’re all  _the fucking same to her_ , like they’re just there for her to  _destroy_! The  _challengers_ , the  _Pokémon_ —”  
  
Her fist blurred at her side.  
  
“— _her own sister_ —!”  
  
And the mirror  _shattered_.  
  
Ugly spiderweb cracks crawling out from the dent her fist had made in the glass, frosty white and seeming to try and consume the reflective surface. Blood dribbled down from punctured flesh in dauntingly crimson rivulets, sinuous and serpentine, and Celestine couldn’t tell if it was from the glass or from her nails biting into her palm.  
  
A thousand reflections met the corners of her vision, prismatic and myriad. Their eyes blazed with blue light, the Infinity Cross—Aesith light, demihuman light. They glared at her, accusing, porcelain faces and ebony hair, beautiful but ethereal, unearthly. Blue eyes, blue eyes, the Goddess’s gift. A private pack of judgemental bitches that flooded Celestine’s peripheral vision.  
  
She thought of Viola’s green eyes—jade, jade, just like a scared little girl who had wandered off into the woods.  
  
Celestine’s entire body was trembling, her skeleton rattling around beneath her skin, her fury close  _bursting_ , and she knew her Aura was flaring, strong enough to fill the entire space. All around her, the air rippled and pulsed and choked her, attempting to contain her, to conceal her—the inhuman part, the supernatural part. The  _unnatural_  part. Her lungs felt like they were collapsing, her heartbeat ringing like the aftermath of a gunshot, blood boiling in her veins...and all she could see was resolute jade and deranged malachite, sisters on either corner of a vast arena before the air was rent by a murderous pincer and a bolt of dark lightning came down the divine judgement of a deranged god.  
  
“ _I CAN **NEVER**  FORGIVE SOMEONE LIKE THAT_!”  
  
She shoved Shauna—who was still stunned by the shattering mirror—and threw the door open with all the force of a bottled hurricane. The three remaining occupants all started and stared at her with wide eyes. They’d heard her. They must have. The walls were dangerously thin.  
  
The blood on Celestine’s hand was already cooling, skin sewing itself back up.  
  
“Okay,  _LISTEN UP_!” she snarled. “If  _ANY_  of you are entertaining notions about  _CHANGING MY MIND_ , just forget them  _RIGHT NOW_. Either fucking  _STAY OUT OF MY WAY_  or I guarantee you you’re going to  _SORELY REGRET IT_.”  
  
She stormed—or perhaps “hurricaned” was a better word—over to the door before anyone could say anything and threw it open.  
  
Calem.  
  
His hand was poised to knock, and hung there awkwardly. He blinked, regarded her briefly—her flushed face and the expression of war that she’d painted on, the unearthly scintillation in her eyes and way with which she seemed ready to detonate into a maelstrom of fire and brimstone at a moment’s notice—and his brows lowered slowly.  
  
“ _Move_ ,” she hissed.  
  
He stepped aside, and let her pass, without so much as a word.  
  
Because he knew, and he understood.  
  
Sort of.  
  
Part of it, anyway.  
  
She marched down the hall without another word, a woman on a warpath and the frontlines singing her name. Jade green flashed through her mind, and she knew without about that  _this_  would be enough.  
  
Enough to draw  _his_  eye.  
  
The “Good Doctor”.  
  
And he’d better be watching, because Celestine was about to give him a show he’d never forget.  
  
She was the beacon, after all.

* * *

Calem took a quick inventory of the room. One Tierno and Trevor pair, one on the bed and the other sitting on the ground, with matching stunned expressions; one Serena leaning against the wall, arms crossed, with a brow wrinkled by intense worry; one rather distraught Shauna standing helplessly in the bathroom doorway; and one opened gift basket at the foot of the bed.  
  
Yup, this screamed failed intervention.  
  
He clucked his tongue and shot Shauna a sidelong glance as she closed the door, her shoulders trembling slightly. Oh, geez. That was not a good sign. Shauna wasn’t the type to get this riled up this quickly, much less break down in tears. The hell had Lavieaux said to her? Tippy toes, Lafayette. Try not to upset her further.  
  
Levity. Go for levity.  
  
Calem attempted a smirk that felt very wooden. “So I take it didn’t go well?”  
  
That clearly wasn’t the right call, though, because Shauna groaned and threw herself on the bed so hard she nearly bounced Trevor off. The ginger got up and sat down on the floor next to Tierno, shooting the brunette an indignant look, as Shauna grabbed the nearest pillow and threw it over her head.  
  
Yeah. Really bad call.  
  
“Shauna? You okay?” Calem mentally slapped himself a second later. She was clearly not okay. What was he saying, dammit?  
  
“I just—!” Shauna shoved the pillow off as she straightened, her eyes glittering wetly. Oh, please don’t be tears. Please, god. Calem was so terrible with crying girls. “I don’t even know, okay? I just don’t  _know_.”  
  
And it was the sheer frustration coloring her tone that made Calem sigh as he closed the door behind him. Funnily enough, it took Shauna—Shauna! Mlle Optimism herself!—on the verge of a breakdown for him to realize that this was going to be messy as hell. You’d think he’d have figured that out before he came into the room.  
  
“Maybe confronting her immediately was a bad idea,” Tierno was saying as Calem made his way over to the bed and sat down next to Shauna, laying a comforting hand on her shoulder. He didn’t miss, though, how tired Tierno sounded, how weary. “Let’s wait a couple days until she calms down a little, and if she hasn’t come to her senses, I’ll talk to her, okay?”  
  
Shauna’s shoulder was bony underneath his palm. She didn’t resist as he tugged her a little closer. Ah, this brought him back. Middle school had been a nightmare and Shauna a subject of torment for her dark complexion and the funny accent she hadn’t shaken back then. He’d spent many a night up in her room, an arm on her shoulder as she cried—and he’d just sat there, saying nothing, just touched her shoulder and let her know he was there.  
  
This wasn’t those times, though. This time, he didn’t stay silent. Instead, he turned back to the room, steeling himself. “Can I make a suggestion?”  
  
Tierno and Trevor both had a sort of listlessness in their gazes, like they were exhausted and had just stopped caring. Serena, on the other hand, watched him like a hawk, something about her gaze making Calem’s skin itch. Shauna said nothing, taking deep breaths as she tried to keep herself from crying out of sheer frustration.  
  
Eventually, Tierno sighed. “Yeah, sure, go ahead Cal.”  
  
Calem squeezed Shauna’s shoulder. She had stopped trembling at the very least. “Before I say anything, promise first that you won’t immediately get mad or dismiss it.”  
  
That set off some red flags almost immediately. Shauna looked up at him, a question burning in her gaze, and he looked at the floral bedsheets in order to avoid it. Because of that, he didn’t get a good look at Trevs’s, Tierno’s, or Rena’s reactions, but he doubted they were much better.  
  
“What is it?” Shauna asked quietly, hoarsely.  
  
These bedsheets were very interesting. Calem did not know poppies could be so fascinating, really. “I really do need you to promise that you won’t get pissed.”  
  
“Talk first,” Trevor said flatly, “then we’ll see.”  
  
_Very_  reassuring.  
  
“Is that just you, or is that the consensus—”  
  
Calem felt a hand grab the hand he’d placed on Shauna’s shoulder and then slowly pry it off. He looked up, startled, only to be met by Shauna’s probing green gaze. Calem swore to the Goddess there were times she could read his fucking mind, the way she looked at him.  
  
“Just talk, Cal,” Shauna said quietly. Her hand stayed on his wrist, the grip loose and relaxed.  
  
...fine.  
  
He sighed and took inventory again. Trevor had his face twisted into a dubious frown, and Tierno still looked tired but there was a glint of curiosity now. Serena’s expression had smoothed out to something neutral and impassive, like she’d been carved out of marble, and Calem would be damned if that wasn’t unusual. And finally, Shauna and her expression of exhaustion but nonetheless seriousness.  
  
Here goes nothing.  
  
“Try to think of Celestine like, like a bullet.” This wasn’t the best analogy, probably, but it was good enough. He’d thought it up on the way here and thus should not be judged if it was bad. “A bullet that was shot by an expert sniper at a long-range distance, more precisely. And because of the distance, the bullet needs just the right ratio of gunpowder and velocity. Your hearts are in the right place, and I’m not saying you’re doing anything wrong—but what you’re trying to do is put up walls of bullet-proof glass in the bullet’s path. That’s just gonna slow the bullet down and it’s never going to reach its mark.”  
  
Calem paused, once again sweeping the room with his gaze. They watched and waited, breath bated.  
  
“So, maybe instead...” He was not pausing for drama, but rather to brace himself for their reactions, thank you. “We should try to be gunpowder?”  
  
“That’s a terrible analogy,” Trevor said immediately. And really, Calem should have expected that. While Trevor did restrain himself around strangers and usually kept to his own little meek corner, it certainly did not change the fact that Trevor had the capability of tearing someone’s dignity to shreds if it suited him. Calem, having known the ginger for years, could attest to this. “That part with the gunpowder—that’s not how guns work.”  
  
Was Calem used to this? Yes.  
  
Was he expecting a response like this? Oh, definitely.  
  
Did it still piss him off? Oh yeah.  
  
“The point still remains.” Calem forced himself to talk calmly, keep his tone neutral. Snapping would get him nowhere. Keep your temper in check. Diplomacy, Lafayette, diplomacy.  
  
“Is the point that you don’t know how guns work?” Trevor shot him a flat look that did not help his case whatsoever. “Like, what’s this target you’re talking about? Why’s a sniper shooting the bullet? Why can’t it just be a regular guy with a gun?”  
  
Fuck diplomacy.  
  
Calem whirled around to shoot Trevor a glare. “Then what sort of analogy would you suggest, oh  _master_  of the figurative?”  
  
“ _Boys_ ,” Serena said sharply. Sharp enough to cut glass, mind you, and it made Calem pale. It wasn’t that he was scared of Serena, per se, just that he still had some very vivid memories from his childhood in which she noogied him constantly, despite the fact that he’d been one year older and bigger than her, and once punched a bigger kid for making fun of her pigtails. No, he wasn’t scared of her. He was just smart enough not to test her temper. After all, his Mère was her aunt, and that temper had to have come from somewhere else before it was passed down to Mère and Aunt Pénélope.  
  
He looked over at the nearby wall and almost didn’t notice when Shauna released his wrist, scooting back a little.  
  
Almost.  
  
“Let me get this straight,” she said coolly. He could feel her gaze probing him, and pretended not to notice the way her eyes narrowed. “Are you actually suggesting we help Celestine in her  _suicidal_  mission to take down this Alexa lady?”  
  
“...yes.”  
  
“Follow-up question: Are you absolutely nuts?”  
  
Celestine owed him one, okay? She honest-to-Goddess owed him one for the way he was advocating for her side right now, please and thank you. Calem exhaled through his nostrils as he turned back to face Shauna. “No. I’m not. But thank you for questioning my mental faculties.”  
  
Her expression told him the sarcasm went unappreciated.  
  
“Calem,” Tierno said, causing Calem to swing around to face the dancer. Tierno’s expression had gone hard, neutral, and he was clearly trying not to take sides here, ever the mediator.   
  
“Celestine just challenged a Berserker. That’s not a good idea.”  
  
“I realize that,” Calem responded.  
  
Tierno frowned. “But you’re saying we shouldn’t stop her.”  
  
Calem shrugged. “Hey, I already tried to talk her out of it. She wouldn’t go for it.”  
  
“This is utter bullshit,” Trevor blurted. “‘She wouldn’t go for it’ my ass! If you really wanted to make an effort in dissuading her, you would have done so. Clearly, you didn’t! Why?”  
  
“Because I don’t think she’s suicidal.”  
  
Incredulous looks all around. Calem rolled his eyes. He swore, nothing he said was completely safe—and that was the way it was with your friends. They tried not to judge you, but you knew they were doing so internally, and while they tried not to show it, sometimes it slipped through. And they had the ability to judge you better than strangers because they knew you, and knowing you allowed them to tell you, quite conclusively, how insane you were going.  
  
Anyway.  
  
“Guys, I’m being serious,” he said, before anyone else could pipe up with a decisive  _you’re nuts_. “Look, I’ll be the first to admit that I don’t like Lavieaux. I think she’s cold and arrogant and unnecessarily condescending. But she also doesn’t strike me as the reckless type.”  
  
Shauna scoffed. “You should have been with us in Santalune Forest, Cal.”  
  
“...reckless about something like this,” he corrected. Calem was going to need more information on that later, though. “I know it may look suicidal from our perspective, but Celestine is a seasoned veteran. In order to battle properly, Trainers have to learn how to analyze everything in a split second. I think Celestine did the same when she saw that situation. She took it all in and made a split-second decision—but I don’t think it was reckless.”  
  
“She  _challenged a Berserker_ ,” Shauna said forcefully.  
  
Calem ran a hand over his face. “I’m not saying it wasn’t insane. Just that it wasn’t necessarily reckless.”  
  
Shauna didn’t look convinced.  
  
“Look. I’m not saying we should sit around doing nothing while Celestine goes on a training spree.” He swept the room with his gaze, took stock for a third time. No one looked please, but at least they were listening. “I, for example, was planning on heading to Lumiose and digging a little deeper into Alexa’s connections, try and figure out how she’s keeping the League in the dark. Maybe I can even spur them to action.”  
  
Tierno’s gaze brightened a little, and some of the exhaustion seemed to slip off his face. “Do you think that’s possible?”  
  
“I don’t know. But it doesn’t hurt to try, and I’ll feel a lot better once the League at least knows what’s going on.” Calem turned back to Shauna. “In the meantime, Celestine is probably going to spend the next three weeks level grinding in order to prep for this match. She’s not an idiot. She knows that, as her team is, she’s outmatched. She knows her team’s capabilities—she knows that she’s going to need to spend every minute of the next three weeks training, and I think that’s why she set that timeline. A Trainer knows their team.”  
  
“Even a team they’ve had for less than a week?” Trevor asked skeptically.  
  
Calem shrugged. “Grand-père once said that a good Trainer can determine their Pokémon’s capabilities within a matter of hours.”  
  
“He did say that...” came Serena’s voice, a little listless. And it was weird to hear her speak up, suddenly, after being silent for so long.  
  
“Anyway.” Calem turned back to Shauna again and gave her a meaningful look. “Lavieaux is probably going to run herself ragged in the process. Someone needs to make sure she doesn’t push herself too far and can still function properly once the battle date rolls around.”  
  
Shauna sighed. “You’re talking about me, aren’t you?”  
  
“Yup.”  
  
“...I’ll think about it.”  
  
Well, it was better than a flat-out no. Calem took that as a win.  
  
He turned to Trevor and Tierno. “Gyms usually record matches, and some of the particularly intense ones end up on the League website. It’s a small chance, but Alexa might not have stopped that. She hardly strikes me as the type to cautious. See if you can find any recent footage from the Santalune Gym after she took over. Tierno, you’re good with movement patterns. Trevor, battle strategy. See if you can figure out Alexa’s strategy, and go over it with Lavieaux. Help her form a plan that doesn’t rely on brute force.”  
  
Trevor’s brows arched. “Are you ordering us around, Lafayette?”  
  
Calem shrugged. “It’s just a suggestion.”  
  
“Very organized for a suggestion,” Trevor said skeptically.  
  
Calem pulled a knee up to his chest and started tapping on it. “I had some time to think on the way here.”  
  
“I can deal with coach duty, as long as Celestine’s willing to accept our help,” Tierno said, stepping in before an argument could break out. “But what about Serie?”  
  
Serena peeled herself off the wall and crossed her arms. She started walking over to the side of the bed, to where the gift basket lay, seemingly forgotten. “ _Serie_  will be contacting the Professeur and hope he doesn’t go ballistic when he finds out his old friend’s daughter is rushing head-first into danger.”  
  
Calem blinked. Old friend’s... daughter? “Wait, Sycomore knows Celestine’s parents?”  
  
Rena had knelt down in front of the basket and had started to sift through it—boxes of macarons, chocolates, and Poké Puffs—but Calem’s comment made her pause. She glanced up, blinking, probably only just realizing her slip. “Oh, uh. Yeah. He knew her mère, like, back in college.”  
  
Calem’s brow furrowed. If that was the case, Sycomore giving Celestine a license and a starter made much more sense now. Although, personal favors were still a little unethical. He wondered how he’d reacted to Lavieaux being Aesith, if he wasn’t aware of the fact alre...ady...  
  
It hit him, then. Really, he should have figured that Sycomore, being the sponsor of Lavieaux’s Kalosian license, would have been aware of the fact that she was a demihuman. Truthfully, Calem hadn’t really pondered her supernatural nature all that much. But, really, he should have connected the dots.  
  
But no, what really hit him was the fact that Serena had to know, too. She had been the courier of Celestine’s license and starter. Legally, she had to privy to that information—a law that was put into effect after one incident with an Aesith suicide bomber in Sinnoh a couple decades back—and she knew.  
  
Not just that, but Serena hadn’t returned to Lumiose yet. She had no reason to stay, really—unless she had been tasked monitoring Lavieaux’s early progress.  
  
_Sycomore you sly SOB._  
  
Serena stood, boxes of Poké Puffs cradled in her arms. “I’m going to take these to Celestine, too. These’ll help her team out a lot.”  
  
“How so?” Tierno inquired.  
  
Serena opened her mouth to speak, but it was Trevor who answered. “You know how there’s a certain enzyme in Poké Beans that increases EXP gain?”  
  
“I vaguely remember you rambling about something like that,” Tierno answered in a warm, teasing tone.  
  
“Well, ground Poké Bean powder is one of the main ingredients in Poké Puffs,” Trevor explained. “So they, too, can increase EXP points if a Pokémon consumes enough of them. Though, the need to eat a lot, because of the dilution from the other ingredients.”  
  
“Thank you, Trevor,” Serena said flatly.  
  
Trevor shrugged, unapologetic.  
  
Calem leaped off the bed and to his feet. “Mind if I go with you, Rena? I kinda... want to talk to Sycomore myself.”  
  
She blinked at him, bewildered. “Uh, why? What about?”  
  
“A...thing.”  
  
“A thing?”  
  
“Yes, a  _thing_.” Calem thought quickly. Dexes—Sycomore would be consulted about Dexes, yes? And with the Dexes came... “Like, with my ruleset—and stuff.”  
  
Serena looked even more befuddled, her brows furrowing, but she shrugged nonetheless. “Well, okay...I guess. Long as it’s quick.”  
  
“Great!” he said brightly. He hooked the underside of her upper arm and started pulling her towards the door. “Let’s go talk to him about that thing.”  
  
Once they were out in the hallway, Serena turned to him with a frown. “Why are you being weird?”  
  
Calem shrugged, trying to stay calm while his mind raced. “No idea what you’re talking about.”  
  
_You knew Celestine was Aesith and you didn’t tell me_ , he thought, a little bitter. Immediately, though, he corrected himself.  _Well, granted, it wasn’t really your place to say anything, and it’s not like I don’t keep secrets from you but—what am I doing, I’m not even talking to you out loud._  
  
So he just didn’t say anything.  
  
Before he knew it, they were both sitting in front of a vid-phone as it dialed Laboratoires de Sycomore. A cheery digital Porygon danced on the screen as the ellipse flashed rhythmically underneath, “loading” glowing brightly in several languages, some Calem recognized and some he didn’t. The boxes of Poké Puffs sat at Calem’s feet. Serena was leaned against the table where the machine sat, cheek in hand, and continually snatching not-so-discreet glances at him from the corner of her eyes.  
  
“So, how about this?” she piped up, a little too chipper. “You ask your questions, and then take those boxes to Celestine. Sound good?”  
  
Wow, she was not making it subtle that she didn’t want him here. Calem offered a thin, sarcastic smile. “Sure.”  
  
Before Serena could respond, the screen blipped and an image of a blonde-haired, blue-eyed gentleman dressed in white, save for a dash of color from his blue necktie, appeared, a practiced smile adorning his handsome face. When he saw them, his gaze lit a little, and his smile became a little more genuine.  
  
“Ah, Mlle Devereux. And M. Lafayette,” Dexio Lafontaine said smoothly. Calem had met the senior Dexholder a couple times last summer, mostly when he delivered packed lunches that Rena had forgotten to her work. There was one occasion in which Calem had ended up staying at the lab for a couple hours, and had incidentally ended up late to work himself. “What a pleasant surprise. Should I contact the Professeur?”  
  
“No, that’s fine,” Serena said with a dismissive wave before Calem could say anything. “Cal just had a couple questions about the rules the Professeur gave him. I was hoping you could answer them.”  
  
Dexio was smooth and professional and eternally poised as he answered in a clipped, “Yes, of course, how can I help you?”  
  
“Oh, well it’s  _really_  nothing.” Calem leaned in a little, painting on a bright, shit-eating smile. “I just wanted to know if Sycomore was aware that his ward, an Aesith by the name of Celestine Lavieaux, had made plans to engage with a deranged Gym Leader that’s abusing Transcendence.”  
  
Serena bucked in her seat, turning to him with eyes so wide they looked ready to burst out of her skull. Dexio, meanwhile, didn’t quite react—the teeth in his smile disappeared into something tight-lipped and considerate, but his expression still remained politely neutral, and he hardly did more than blink.  
  
“Should I contact the Professeur?” the Dexholder asked, still smooth and fluid and cordial.  
  
Calem answered with a chipper, “That would be  _lovely_.”  
  
Dexio smiled another thin, polite smile, said something along the lines of “one moment, please”, and the screen cut back to the dancing Porygon with the words “transferring call” flashing underneath in a variety of languages. Meanwhile, Serena slumped back in her seat with a colossal sigh that seemed to drain her of all her strength.  
  
“You know.” It wasn't a question.  
  
“I wouldn’t have said that if I didn’t,” Calem replied coolly.  
  
Serena crossed her arms. “And Alexa’s really abusing Transcendence?”  
  
He clucked his tongue. “Eeyup.”  
  
“ _That’s_  why she...” Serena pinched the bridge of her nose, then ran a hand roughly through her bangs, her fingers curling into fists. She opened her eyes, and her gaze betrayed an odd mixture of realization and exhaustion. “That explains  _so_  much.”  
  
Calem quirked a brow. “You didn’t pick up on that?”  
  
“I wasn’t  _there_ , Sherlock.”  
  
The memory of the Gym’s ICU flashed across Calem’s mind—sick and dying and gruesome injuries, thousands of bodies wrapped in gauze, all straining for room as the rooms were flooded with more and more victims. “Yeah. Be glad you weren’t.”  
  
They lapsed into a tense silence. The Porygon on the screen chirped happily.  
  
Calem cast her a sidelong glance. “Aren’t you, like, studying to be a genius scientist or something? Aren’t these the sort of connections you’re going to have to make?”  
  
Her lip twitched and she smacked his shoulder playfully. “Shut up.”  
  
The screen blipped again. Rather than Dexio, an older man appeared on the monitor, one with rumpled dark hair that had a faint threading of silver in its tangles and a jaw that looked as though it hadn’t seen hide nor hair of a razor’s business end for at least a week. A bleary grey gaze squinted at them as though looking through a haze—those little red capillaries against the white sclera and the deep shadows underneath his eyelids spoke of a poor night’s sleep, or maybe a poor week’s sleep. Crow’s feet crinkled the corners of his eyes as his brows furrowed, and something like confusion flickered across his face before recognition set in.  
  
“Serena?” Sycomore’s speech was slurred a little. Calem noticed that the Professor wasn’t wearing his lab coat like usual, and that his collar was both loose and crooked. The background, likely his office, was dim—the curtains were drawn. “That you?”  
  
“Professeur?” Serena’s voice came out thick with concern. “You’re not hungover, are you?”  
  
“Of course not,” Sycomore snapped, his voice sounding garbled through the speakers. He placed a hand over his eyes, rubbing them with his thumb and pointer finger. “Lumiose’s just... bright and loud today.”  
  
Calem clucked his tongue. “Bonjour, Professuer.”  
  
The man jumped and lowered his hand, blinking. He squinted, then his eyes widened, which gave him an almost crazed look. “Dear gods. Calem Lafayette. I didn’t see you there.”  
  
_I was literally sitting right here._  
  
Sycomore cleared his throat and tried to sit up a little straighter, but he was still slouching. He twisted his mouth into something that was probably meant to be a charming smile, only to come out a little haphazard. “So, Dexio says you wanted to talked me about something?”  
  
“Celestine’s leveled a challenge against a Transcendence-abusing Gym Leader,” Serena said, straight to the point.  
  
Sycomore’s face fell for a moment, and he blinked, uncomprehending. Then his expression dissolved into weariness, his entire frame sagging in his seat, as though whatever had been holding him upright had just clattered to the ground, useless. Slowly, the man raised his hand to his face and began to massage his temples, the action tugging his eyelids back a little. “Grande Déese ci-dessus, cette fille va être la mort de moi—she did  _what_?”  
  
Serena bit her lip. “Do you want me to repeat that, Professeur, or do you just need a moment to process?”  
  
Rather than answer, Sycomore threw his hands onto his face and groaned deeply, which crackled through the speakers. Calem let out a sigh, casting Serena a sidelong glance. Sycomore was nice and all, but there were times Calem really pitied Serena for working under him—times like this when she probably would have ended up as no more than a glorified babysitter, had she remained in Lumiose.  
  
Finally, the older man dropped his hands and looked straight at Calem, something incredibly serious in his gaze that he’d never seen in Sycomore before. “And I assume Celestine told you about her... you know.”  
  
Calem’s lip quirked. He tried to speak slowly in order to accommodate the Professeur’s—let’s just say “compromised”—faculties. “Not in so many words. Though I  _did_  get a rather graphic view of her regenerative abilities.”  
  
Sycomore ran a hand over his face again. “So she’s broadcasting it. Lovely. Serena, chérie, could you grab her for me, s’il vous plait?”  
  
Serena winced. “She’s not here right now, Professeur. She’s off training—somewhere.”  
  
Another groan. “Of  _course_  she is.”  
  
“Professeur, if I may,” Calem piped up, a little urgently. Sycomore’s dulled gaze settled back on him. “The League is currently in the dark about this issue. I was planning a trip to Lumiose to do some digging as to why this might be, and to hopefully alert them on the matter.”  
  
“And you’re planning to pop by?” Sycomore guessed, the left corner of his lip twitching, too sarcastic to be a smile.  
  
“If it’ll help, then yeah, I don’t think it could hurt,” Calem admitted.  
  
Sycomore drummed his left hand against his desk. “Y’know what? It is way too early to deal with this sober. I’m going to get some vodka or something.” He made a move to get up, though grunted as if it strained him greatly. “I’ll be right back.”  
  
“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” Serena said.  
  
“Well, I’m sure as hell not going to be sober when I talk to Monsieur Loo—” Sycomore paused, lips pursing, and he muttered something along the lines  _no, I shouldn’t tell them that_ , then shook his head. “...I’ll be right back.”  
  
Then he disappeared somewhere off-screen. Serena slumped onto the counter with a muffled groan. She didn’t raise her head when Calem got to his feet.  
  
“Where are you going?” she grumbled through the muffle of her forearm.  
  
He knelt down and picked up the pastry boxes. “To find Lavieaux and deliver these Poké Puffs. I’ve said all I need to, so I’m going to take my leave—as I promised I would.”  
  
At this, she raised her head and glared at him through the veil of her fringe. “You’re an ass, Calem.”  
  
“But you love me anyway.” He patted her shoulder. “Good luck, Rena.”  
  
“You too.”

* * *

“...and that’s how we ended up challenging Alexa Dupuis for authority over the Santalune Gym,” Celestine finished. She surveyed her team and their reactions. And... they weren’t very positive. She bit the inside of her cheek, her left leg twitching with restlessness after sitting cross-legged for so long. “Any volunteers?”  
  
Delphi’s jaw had dropped, and now hung open like a yawning abyss as he blinked rapidly, trapped in the quagmire of an uncomprehending stupor. Tyler said nothing, but the look of complete and utter disbelief spoke volumes and made Celestine a little more than afraid to hear his actual thoughts. Tanner turned to Max and started chittering feverishly, though both their expressions were unreadable. Ray slowly crossed his arms, wincing when he aggravated the wound in his shoulder, which had not quite healed as well as Celestine had hope it would. Filling the silence was the perpetual roar of the Route Twenty-Two falls, thunderous and awe-inspiring. Celestine’s hair was laden with crystalline water droplets from the mist the falls had kicked up over the last hour and a half—one hour to calm down after her fight with Shauna, and a half hour to properly brief her team.  
  
Tyler broke the silence first.  
  
“...are you absolutely insane?” he asked, at the same time Tanner exclaimed, “Hell yeah, I’m in!”  
  
Celestine blinked at the elder Pidgey. “Seriously?”  
  
“Are you quite mad?” Tyler demanded incredulously, as Tanner hopped forward, bold and unafraid.  
  
Tanner shot the Psyduck a rather indignant glare and huffed, ruffling his feathers. “Look, newbie. I’ve heard of these ‘Berserker types’. I’ve heard what they can do, what they  _like_  to do. I hate their fucking guts. This one uses Bugs. I’m a bird. It’s a no-brainer.”  
  
Delphi’s brow furrowed as he regarded Tanner with incomprehension. “I thought you said you hated Bugs.”  
  
“Exactly! Which is why it’ll feel  _so_  good to tear ‘em a new one,” Tanner replied, his tone rife with determination.  
  
“Mon bon oiseau, I think there is more at stake than a mere catharsis,” Tyler retorted dryly.  
  
Tanner unfurled one wing and feigned a dignified air, speaking in low, nasally voice that was a poor mimicry of Tyler’s. “Oh, look at me, I know long words. I’m making fun of the Pidgey to look smart because I don’t think he knows what ‘catharsis’ means. Oh, I’m so clever! Ahahaha!”  
  
Celestine arched a brow. “Do you? Know what ‘catharsis’ means?”  
  
Tanner froze, then wheeled around to glare at her with enough Pidgey fury to burn a hole through steel. “Hey, I don’t ask  _you_  what words you know!” Before Celestine could formulate a proper response, he wheeled around to face Delphi. “Hey kid, you gettin’ in on this?”  
  
Delphi snapped his jaw shut, eyes widening and ears straightening. “M-Me?”  
  
“Yeah. You. You’re packing heat, y’know? You’re a Bug’s worst enemy.” Tanner shot the Fennekin a meaningful look. “You being involved or not is probably going to make or break this whole thing.”  
  
Delphi’s eyes widened further, to the point where Celestine could see the whites of his eyes around his irises. He turned to Celestine, ears flattening. "I-Is that true?”  
  
Celestine bit the inside of her cheek again and said nothing. It was true, that a Fire-Type like Delphi was vital to her plan. That not having him on the team could be incredibly detrimental. That it did sort of hinge on him. It was true. It was very true.  
  
She let out a breath. “I’m not forcing anyone to do this if they don’t want to. It’s your life that’s being gambled, not mine.”  
  
“I thought you said this Alexa woman attacks Trainers as well,” Tyler pointed out, skeptical.  
  
Delphi winced. “Trainer’s... she’s Aesith, Monsieur Tyler.”  
  
Tanner whirled around to pin Celestine with a stare that said way too much. “Hold up. Aesith? Seriously?”  
  
Celestine sighed and nodded. Tanner’s eyes widened further.  
  
“Ho-ly shit.” He stared at her with newfound wonderment, and it made her admittedly uncomfortable. Celestine had heard that Aesith were sort of venerated in Kalos, but geez, that was not something she wanted to see on a regular basis.  
  
Tyler, meanwhile, simply rolled his eyes. “Yes. I already figured that out, actually.”  
  
What.  
  
No. Seriously.  _What_.  
  
Delphi’s jaw had gone slack when he turned to the Psyduck. “You  _did_?”  
  
“The  _hell_  did you ‘figure it out’?” Celestine demanded, three parts indignant and one part flabbergasted.  
  
Tyler shrugged. “You are much taller than the average, Mlle. Not to mention the intensity with which you spoke. Aesith do tend to get involved in some rather spectacular situations. I’m guess one left its mark, oui?”  
  
An electric jolt went through Celestine and her breath stuttered. She curled her hands into fists at her sides, grabbing several clumps of grass in the process. “Maybe I’m just tall and jaded. Ever think of that?”  
  
“Statistically unlikely.”  
  
Celestine was about to fire off a scathing retort when Ray stepped forward, suddenly. He uncrossed his arms and held his paws out, as if waiting for her to give him something. Celestine eyed him for a moment, then, slowly, she relaxed her left hand and held it out for him to take. He flinched back, initially, but tentatively stepped forward again.  
  
His hand-paws brushed her hand. Reticent, then with more confidence. He traced her palms and explored her fingers, searching, searching, searching—for what, Celestine couldn’t say. Differences? Similarities? Both? The Panpour remained stoic throughout the exchange, head turned down as he continued to examine Celestine’s hand.  
  
Then he grabbed hold of it, and Celestine allowed her fingers to curl around his hands.  
  
Ray glanced back up at her, expression as unreadable as ever, and his hands tightened around hers. Then, he shook it.  
  
It took a moment for Celestine to understand what he was doing, what he was saying without words. “You want to help?”  
  
Ray nodded.  
  
Celestine’s lip twitched into something that  _definitely wasn’t a smile_ , thank you very much. “Well okay then.”  
  
“I’d like to remind you all that I put my hat in the ring first, thank you,” Tanner announced, rather obnoxiously. Celestine didn’t particularly think being the first to sign up for something like this was an accomplishment, but she didn’t object.  
  
“You’re both mad,” Tyler muttered.  
  
Max chittered, oblivious. Tanner whirled around to respond in impassioned wild tongue. Whatever it was made Tyler roll his eyes, muttering something about overzealousness.  
  
Delphi’s gaze slid cautiously over to Celestine. “Are you... really doing this?”  
  
Celestine unclenched her right hand and rested it over her legs. Ray was still clutching her left. “Yeah. But Delphi—no one’s forcing you into anything. If you don’t want to do this, you do have to. It’s dangerous, it’s messy, and in the end, it’s your call.”  
  
Delphi’s ears flatten. He didn’t whimper, but he looked like he was going to. His gaze dropped to the ground and he shifted his paws, tail twitching.  
  
“This is going to involve Transcendence, isn’t it?” Tyler asked. His gaze was a little weary as he regarded Celestine, his shoulders slumping almost in defeat.  
  
Celestine closed her eyes, allowing her vision to dissolve into warm ruby darkness. Well, there was really no point in hiding it now, was there? “Definitely.”  
  
For a beat, the only sound was the falls and the Pidgey chirping between themselves.  
  
“I don’t know how much help someone like myself will be,” Tyler said slowly. Warily. Like he couldn’t quite believe what he was saying. “I don’t have a decided advantage on Bugs. My strengths lie in Water and a few choice Psychic attacks. But... I am willing to help. If I can, that is.”  
  
She opened her eyes a little, peering at him through the fringe of her lashes. The sun glinted off his waxy feathers, but highlighted the determined spark in his otherwise dopey gaze. “...arigato.”  
  
“I—” Delphi started, then stopped. His pelt glowed golden, cast a halo of light around him. His ears were pinned back, his eyes still trained on the ground, his paw working at the grass. She watched as his brows furrowed, and his expression set into something determined. “I want to help too.”  
  
“The kid’s in too!” Tanner announced, before Celestine could respond. He waved a wing, as if in triumph, and behind him, Max chirped merrily.  
  
_The kid’s in too_ —that’s what Tanner said. Those exact words. Celestine squeezed her eyes shut, the red darkness angry and pulsing. Children. She was asking children to—  
  
“You don’t have to,” she said quietly. “None of you have to. This is totally optional. I’ll understand if you don’t—”  
  
“No,” Delphi interrupted, his voice oddly steady. She didn’t open her eyes, too afraid of what she’d see in his expression. “I want to. We’re supposed to be partners, right? The starter and the Trainer. And partners do things like this together—the hard stuff. They stay by each other’s side. So. I want to.”  
  
Tyler humphed. “I’ve just given you my support. Don’t make me change my mind.”  
  
“Me n’ the kid wouldn’t agree unless we wanted to,” Tanner said, almost insulted. Max chirped in agreement.  
  
Ray squeezed her hand again.  
  
Celestine opened her eyes. The sun was bright in her eyes. “Okay. Then let’s train.”

* * *

Tyler led them to a valley in the mountainside, where the ground was almost flat and the grass was so thick Celestine couldn’t see her feet through the blades as she stood and the trees framed it almost like the bars of a jail cell. It made her feel enclosed and free all at once, and it was not a feeling she liked very much. She tried to distract herself by criticizing her team’s ability to run laps.  
  
“Pick up the pace, Delphi!” she called from the center of the valley, cupping a hand around her mouth. The Fennekin was running the perimeter, with Tanner and Max trailing him from above. Tyler was laying down near where she’d set her bag down, panting from exertion—Psyduck weren’t made for running, so she’d allowed him to drop out after the first five laps, but she’d made it very clear that he would have to make up for it in the later exercise. Ray perched on her shoulder, having exacerbated his wound while running laps, and, once again, had been excused.  
  
Delphi was a golden blur through the grassy thicket, but she could see that he was slowing down. “I’m trying!”  
  
She was planning to join them later, but it seemed they’d have to work on endurance first. It clearly wasn’t one of Delphi’s strong suits. The same could be said for Max, who was lagging, which Celestine chalked up to his youth Tanner was the only one maintaining a steady pace.  
  
_I wonder if he’s done this before._  Celestine thought back to Santalune Forest, when Tanner condensed his Sand-Attack, and how he seemed to have a knowledge about the human world that a lot of wilds lacked.  _...maybe he’s had a Trainer before?_  
  
A yelp from behind interrupted Celestine’s train of thought. She whirled around to see  _Calem_ , of all people, standing at the edge of the clearing, with several white boxes stacked in his arms, for whatever reason. Delphi stood nearby, muscles coiled defensively, his entire pelt fluffed up and his eyes huge, ear-tufts radiating heat.  
  
“You  _stepped on my tail_ ,” Delphi accused, punctuating each word with a pant. The laps had really worn him out  
  
“Sorry!” Calem exclaimed quickly, apologetically. “I didn’t see you there!”  
  
The Trainer paused, then immediately ducked just as Tanner and Max whizzed over his head. He followed them with his eyes for a moment, looking pleasantly bemused, before turning back to Celestine and shrugging. Delphi cast a frown at Calem’s back before slumping down on the grass, breathing heavily.  
  
Calem’s expression changed into something like amusement as he approached. “Starting the daily grind already?”  
  
Celestine frowned at his tone. It sounded teasing. She didn’t do teasing. “What do you want?”  
  
“Ideally?” Calem quirked a brow, then hummed thoughtfully. “Something to do with caramel, probably. Can’t get enough of that stuff.”  
  
“That’s...not what I meant.”  
  
“Oh. You meant from you, specifically.” Calem clucked his tongue. “You should really be more specific, Lavieaux.”  
  
“Calem.” She wasn’t in the mood to play games.  
  
He flashed her a condescending smile and held the boxes out. “I believe these are yours. They were in your gift basket—I’m still not sure where you got a gift basket, but nonetheless, these are yours.”  
  
Frowning, she accepted them. From her peripheral, she caught Tyler sitting up with a grunt. Ray peered down at the boxes, intrigued, as she arched a brow. “Is this your way of making sure I eat something?”  
  
“Actually, eating these’ll make you sick,” he said nonchalantly. “If you really want to, though, I won’t stop you.”  
  
She glared.  
  
“Ever heard of Poké Beans?” he asked.  
  
Celestine frowned, thinking. That definitely sounded familiar. “...they’re Alolan, aren’t they?”  
  
“They have an enzyme that can increase EXP gain,” Calem explained. “And they’re a prime ingredient in Poké Puffs.”  
  
Celestine blinked. Then stared down at the boxes in her arms. “So you’re saying—”  
  
“They have to eat a lot of them,” Calem said, before she could finish. “But you have enough to spread them out over the next three weeks”—his gaze flickered around the field, taking stock of her team—“between your team of five.”  
  
Her grip on the bottom box tightened. He didn’t need to deliver these. Yet, he had. “Ah. Thanks.”  
  
“No problem. Also...” He reached into his pocket and pulled out a rectangular device that greatly resembled an oversized computer chip with a screen slapped on, all the wires and circuitry hanging loose, protected only by a thick, sheer plastic shell. It sported a small, detachable compartment on the left side filled with what looked like a dozen or so little silver pellets, all the size of marbles. What looked to be a pair of sunglasses was sheathed in a pocket that had been sown onto the underside. Calem held it out towards her, like an offering. “I’m lending you this.”  
  
“Wow,” Celestine deadpanned as she eyed the hodgepodge contraption. “It’s everything I’ve ever wanted. How did you know?”  
  
“This is a ST device, Lavieaux.”  
  
Celestine stared at him flatly. “Is that supposed to mean something to me?”  
  
It was his turn to arch a brow. “You don’t know what Super Training is?”  
  
“Am I not being obvious enough?” She eyed it again. Really, it looked like something Dr. Frankenstein had whipped up after a game of marbles at the beach. “Is it supposed to be helpful?”  
  
Rather than answer her directly, Calem pressed a button that caused the tiny screen to flare to life, alighting in a painfully bright shade of teal.  **Welcome to SUPER TRAINING!**  declared the screen in big, bright letters that changed color at a pace so rapid it made Celestine’s eyes hurt. Three options where listed beneath, all with their own bubbles, all colored specifically to be a pain to look at directly:  _Start Programme_  (neon red),  _Register New PKMN_  (highlighter yellow),  _Check Current Progress_  (electric blue).  
  
“Sorry for the tacky coloring,” Calem said as he tapped the neon red bubble. “This is a beta of the real thing that a...  _friend_ —loaned me to test out. It’s a little slower than the one you’ll find in stores, but it pretty much operates the same way.”  
  
The screen changed, with the words Please select a programme type headlining in blocky white text. Below that was a list of options: Single, Double, Multi, Demo. As Celestine arched a brow, Calem tapped the “demo” option. From there, a second list popped up, this one with the headline,  **Which program would you like to demo?**  
**—Punching Bag  
—Balloon Bot  
—Augmented Bot**  
  
“See those little bubbles in the top left corner?” Calem pointed at the little blue dots that were, indeed, in the top left corner. Little question marks adorned them. “If you press those, you’ll get a detailed explanation of the programme. They’re all executed differently, but they all do the same thing: boost stat totals.”  
  
She blinked. Then blinked again. Turned to him in shock. “Are—Are you serious? This does that?”  
  
“The future is now, thanks to science,” Calem said cheekily. If that meant something to him, it was lost on Celestine. “But yeah, basically. Once your Pokémon is registered, the ST device subtly manipulates the data to create a sort of augmented reality for the just the Pokémon involved in the programme. These glasses”—he tapped the pouch underneath—“allow you to see the same simulation, which’ll allow you to direct your Pokémon better. They glitch and freeze, sometimes, but an Aesith who can properly utilize Transcendence like yourself can probably find a way around that.”  
  
Was that supposed to be a snide? It felt snide. Celestine decided it was snide.  
  
“The punching bag thing just creates a virtual punching bag,” Calem continued, tapping on the question mark located on the  _Punching Bag_  option. “The thickness and shape depends both on the stat you’re trying to increase and the level, which is how much the stat will increase by once the punching bag is destroyed. You can get higher-leveled options by competing in the other options.” Calem tapped at the compartment of pellets. “These are ‘balloon bots’. They may not look like much now, but once you select a level and stat, it’ll deposit one of these pellet things. You have to throw it on the ground to activate it, but it’ll essentially take the shape of an inflated dummy. Only, it moves in place, and it’s pretty damn durable, save for a few choice weak spots.  
  
“The augmented reality part comes in again, and it’s more engaging than the punching bag option because not only does the Pokémon attack, but the dummy ‘attacks’ back. Those attacks don’t do physical damage, but there is a threshold for how many you can take before you fail. You can also add the timer option to give yourself more of a challenge and increase your yield.”  
  
“What happens to the dummy when you beat it?” Celestine asked. Ray was leaning over to eye the screen with some fascination, and she heard Tanner’s wingbeats before she felt him perch atop her scalp. At this point, it didn’t really phase her anymore.  
  
“It deflates and becomes useless. Thankfully, it’s also biodegradable, so you can just leave it in the woods or whatever.” Calem shook the device a little, causing the pellets to rattle around. “You can buy more at the Poké Mart for dirt-cheap prices. Or, you can just use the augmented option, which is entirely augmented reality. But it glitches every now and again. The single option is just one Pokémon, the doubles option allows to Pokémon to team up. Multi is everything beyond two and is meant to include up to six, but I don’t recommend going past three otherwise it the program freezes for three minutes, then crashes. If that ever happens, just turn it off for five minutes, and then turn it back on. If you need to charge it, it’s solar powered.”  
  
“That’s rather detailed,” Celestine remarked.  
  
“I know this thing like the back of my hand.” He hit a back key, which brought the device back to the main screen, after which he pressed the  _Register New PKMN_  option. “Can you grab your team so I can register them?”  
  
“Sure.” Celestine turned and trotted over to where she’d placed her bag. Tyler was sitting up, now, his breathing having evened out, and Max and Delphi had joined him, both still panting.   
As she knelt down, setting the boxes aside in favor of her bag, Tanner hopped down.  
  
“So what’s going on?” Delphi panted as Celestine retrieved her Chain.  
  
Celestine unclipped it from the side of her bag, holding up the tinkling circlet to the light. “He’s... helping us out.”  
  
“Did you guys make up?”  
  
“Sorta.” She caught Tyler trying to take a peek under the lid of the top box, only to freeze when he noticed her glare, and, gradually, inch back. Celestine narrowed her eyes. “If I find even one crumb missing, it’s twenty laps for all of you. Got it?”  
  
There was a simultaneous “yes ma’am”, which left Celestine a little satisfied, admittedly. She stood back up again and made her way back to Calem, who accepted the Chain without a word.  
  
He pressed a button and a pale blue light shot out from the right side to scan the Chain, wandering over each Ball, probing, scanning, for about thirty seconds each (“Sorry, this thing is really slow,” Calem told her apologetically. “It’s fine,” Celestine said with a shrug.). When it dissipated, the screen changed to say  _LOADING..._  in big, blocky letters.  
  
**ALERT!**  flashed the screen, and Celestine’s hackles rose.  **PKMN are registered under a different license. If you choose to register these PKMN, current account must be deleted.  
  
Delete USER: CALEM? Y/N**  
  
Calem clicked  **Y**.  
  
**Please enter new account name.**  
  
Calem handed the device to Celestine. “All yours, Lavieaux.”  
  
The screen had changed to a keyboard, but it appeared that the space was limited to no more than seven characters. Celestine accepted the device and keyed it in.  
  
_C-E-L-E-S-T-E.  
  
Enter._  
  
**Registering new PKMN... Please wait...  
  
Welcome USER: CELESTE! Would you like a free demo?**  
  
Calem crossed his arms. “Alright. I leave the rest to you.”  
  
Celestine looked up from the screen, blinking. “Eh?”  
  
“I’m heading for Lumiose, to see if I can get the League involved,” he explained.  
  
“You’re still on that?”  
  
“‘Course.” He paused, his lip quirking to the side. “I also talked to Shauna and the guys. I can’t guarantee they’ll help you, per se, but they definitely won’t try to stop you.”  
  
Oh. Sacred Birds. She honestly hadn’t expected him to go this far. “Arigato. You—didn’t have to do all this, really.”  
  
He arched a brow.  
  
“I mean. The Puffs, the thingy”—she gestured to the ST device—“and then talking to— You really didn’t have to.”  
  
Calem shrugged. “Well, we’re all on the same side. But don’t get me wrong, Lavieaux. You owe me, big time.”  
  
“Of course.” She shouldn’t have expected anything less.  
  
“And I’m only lending you the device,” he continued. “I fully expect it to be returned in perfect working order.”  
  
“Gotcha.” She paused, tapping the right edge against her palm. “Erm. Good luck in Lumiose?”  
  
He nodded once. “Good luck in Santalune.”  
  
And with that, he shoves his hands in his pockets, turned around, and walked away.  
  
Celestine took a deep breath and turned back to her team. They all watched, expectant. She ran a finger over the rim of the device. “Okay, team, let’s get back to training.”

* * *

 

**Current Team:**

_Delphi, Male Fennekin (Lv 9)_  
_Docile, Takes plenty of siestas_  
_Ability: Blaze_  
_Moves: Scratch, Tail Whip, Ember_  
_Met: Vaniville ~~Aquacorde~~  Town_  
  
_Max, Male Pidgey (Lv 8)_  
_Naïve, Very finicky_  
_Ability: Tangled Feet_  
_Moves: Tackle, Sand Attack_  
_Met: Route Two_  
  
_Ray, Male Panpour (Lv 8)_  
_Quiet, Likes to relax_  
_Ability: Gluttony_  
_Moves: Scratch, Play Nice, Leer, Lick_  
_Met: Santalune Forest_  
  
_Tanner, Male Pidgey (Lv 8)_  
_Hasty, Scatters things often_  
_Ability: Tangled Feet_  
_Moves: Tackle, Sand Attack_  
_Met: Route ~~Three~~  Two_  
  
_Tyler, Male Psyduck (Lv 8)_  
_Naughty, Proud of his power_  
_Ability: Damp_  
_Moves: Water Sport, Scratch, Tail Whip_  
_Met: ~~Route Twenty-Two~~  Santalune City_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whoo boy! Fell into a bit of a slump halfway through writing this, but oh boy.
> 
> I betcha thought I was going to just skip to the Gym battle, huh? Nope, not this run. This is going to include fallout, aftermath, character development, and grinding sessions, so. Yeah.
> 
> So, I've occasionally alluded to this "Beladonis" figure, and yes, he is important. I'm honestly surprised no one's picked up on it yet.
> 
> And hey! Celestine and Calem mended fences! Sort of! Now I can write them not antagonizing each other at every turn! Thank god! I actually moved up the apology a little, but I'm very satisfied with how this chapter turned out, like, honestly. It was cathartic to finally get it out. And Calem's actually fun to write now.
> 
> Yes, I came up with explanations for Super Training and Pokemon Amie. Sue me. And oh look, Sycomore! Hi there Professor, how's your hangover treatin' you? I'm glad I finally got to introduce him.
> 
> French translations:  
> \- Grande Déese ci-dessus, cette fille va être la mort de moi = great Goddess above, that girl is going to be the death of me.  
> \- Mon bon oiseau = My good bird
> 
> Currently working on the next one, so I cannot guarantee anything about the next time a new chapter comes out, so I ask that you all be patient in the meantime.
> 
> That's all for now! Until next time,  
> Luna


	18. Chapter 6: Entrainement (Part 2)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I'm baaaaack! Or, more accurately, this 'locke is back! Thank you everyone for your continued patience and support. It means so much.

**Chapter 6—Entraînement**  
(noun)

  * French for “training”, “practice”, or “coaching”



 

 

 

Celestine returned to the Center by the time nightfall had set in. When she caught sight of Shauna, sitting crosslegged, outside the doors, she froze, memories of their previous fight bubbled back up. She bit the inside of her cheek and wondered if it was possible for her to make a break for it before she was spotted.  
  
Shauna saw her. Celestine tensed.  
  
But she didn’t react beyond a slow blink. “Did you eat anything today?”  
  
That threw Celestine for a loop. “Eh?”  
  
“Eat,” Shauna said calmly. “Y’know, like, food.”  
  
“Ah...” Celestine had picked up a sandwich or something at a local café while grabbing lunch for her team, and had at the last minute remembered to grab something for herself—but other than that, not really. It’d been a long day, okay? And she was a little distracted. Actually, her stomach was cramping quite angrily, reminding her that it was empty.  
  
Shauna sighed and got to her feet. “Thought so. C’mon.”  
  
And with that, she grabbed Celestine by the wrist and gently tugged her inside, over to the café area in the Center. She grabbed an assortment of pastries—frosted and fruit-filled and chocolate-drizzled, oh my—and piled them all up high on a plate, which she then placed tactfully in front of Celestine, whose stomach admittedly grumbled a little at the sight.  
  
“Eat,” Shauna ordered. Then she drifted over to the Keurig.  
  
Celestine grabbed a chocolate-covered croissant. The bread wasn’t fresh. It was cold and a little stale, but it wasn’t too bad and had chocolate on the inside. She was rather ravenous, too, so it was gone by the time Shauna returned with two Styrofoam cups of something that steamed.  
  
“This is oolong tea,” Shauna explained, placing a cup to the left of Celestine’s plate. “They didn’t have any green tea, so I figured this was...close enough? Was that racist?”  
  
“No. I like oolong.” Celestine took a sip. The taste reminded her of that one time she’d taken a school trip to Blackthorn and tried authentic Johtonese cuisine for the first time. It was a pleasant memory. “Arigato.”  
  
“Oh. Good.” Shauna sipped her drink, then set it down slowly. “Calem seems to think it’ll be more productive to help you instead of stand in your way or whatever.”  
  
Celestine set her tea down and started nibbling on a chocolate chip scone. Hard as a rock, but Kalosian chocolate was really good.  
  
“The thing that really strikes me, though, is that Cal isn’t the type to get won over so easily,” Shauna went on, drumming her fingers against the tabletop. “Not unless he has a really good reason. So, what that says to me, is that he knows something about you that I don’t. Something that would change his mind.”  
  
Damn. She was clever.  
  
“Now, I find that really surprising, considering you two’ve been adamant about not liking each other.” Shauna lowered her gaze. “You tell him something like that, but you didn’t tell me, and we’re closer than you and him are.”  
  
Celestine paused her chewing. “...he wasn’t supposed to find out.”  
  
Shauna paused. Then, quietly, “Do you want to tell me?”  
  
Celestine took another mouthful of scone and said nothing. The only sound were night owls and the nurses on the night shift murmuring in the background, the distant whirr of the electronics.  
  
Shauna sighed. “Fine. I get that. It’s your life.”  
  
...okay. Celestine swallowed. Normally, this wouldn’t be unusual. For all Shauna’s pushiness, she understood boundaries. But after that spat earlier today, this was alarming.  
  
Shauna suddenly thrust her arm out, her pointer finger brushing Celestine’s nose, and the Kantonian flinched back. “But don’t think this means you get to go three weeks without eating anything! You’d better brace yourself, missy, because I am going to be popping up like clockwork to make sure you eat three meals a day, go to bed every night at a reasonable time, and take care of yourself! I’m on nanny duty now, Lavieaux, and you should know that I’ve been told I make one hell of a babysitter!”  
  
There were few things in the known world that could render Celestine Lavieaux utterly dumbstruck, but that remark had just shot to the top of the list. She did not need a babysitter. The whole suggestion was ludicrous. The last time Celestine had ever needed a babysitter was when she was twelve and Maman had left the region for about a month because of work, which had at least been reasonable. But she was seven-fricking-teen now, and she could look after herself.  
  
Celestine’s jaw clenched as shock gave way to indignation. “You’re not babysitting me, Shauna.”  
  
“Too bad,” retorted the brunette as she stood, grabbing her steaming cup of whatever. “Lafayette’s orders. Also, Trevs and Tierny found some video of Alexa’s previous battles, so they’re going to go over that with you in the morning. And Serie found a cool training exercise, plus you gotta talk to the Professor. Point is, you got a long day tomorrow, so once you finish up here, it’s straight to bed, missy!”  
  
As it turned out, Shauna was not lying. At exactly six-thirty in the morning, there was a firm knock on Celestine’s door, which turned out to be Tierno and Trevor, the latter of which was holding a laptop. Celestine would have been annoyed at the early hour if she wasn’t already up and dressed, having been planning on starting training early—if there was one thing she didn’t skimp out on, it was training. Shigeru-san had taught her that.  
  
“This is the League’s website,” Trevor explained, now sitting on the bed to Celestine’s right. The laptop was balancing on the fold of her crossed legs, the screen alight with very official looking shades of harvest gold and maroon. Kalos’s official colors, according to Tierno, who was on Celestine’s left, leaving her sandwiched between them.  
  
“And this”—Trevor clicked on a tab under the Menu option—“is the official Gym page.” There was a list of town names: Cyllage, Shalour, Kiloude, Snowbelle, Lumiose, etc. Trevor clicked on Santalune, and the screen changed to emerald and terracotta brown. “This part is for the Santalune Gym, specifically. There’s a video option, which you’ll see in a sec.”  
  
Celestine arched a brow as multiple video files popped up on the screen, at least one for each day of the past month. “If these matches are recorded and placed on a very public website, how come the League has no idea what’s going on?”  
  
“We wondered the same thing,” Tierno said. The bed dipped a little under his weight, causing Celestine and Trevor to lean a little to the left, though neither complained. “But it turns out, none of the links work.”  
  
Celestine blinked. “What?”  
  
“Yeah. All videos for the last month fail when you try to play them.” Tierno tapped his knee, pensive. “Which is weird, y’know? Because this is an official government site and they’re supposed to have quality control. And then Trevs did some digging in the code.”  
  
“...digging in the code.” Celestine turned back to Trevor, arching a brow. “Like, hacking?”  
  
Trevor paused. “...it’s not really hacking unless you change stuff.”  
  
“But you broke into the site’s firewall?” Firewall is what it was called, right? Unless that one spy movie she watched at the age of ten was wrong.  
  
Trevor frowned. “It was pathetically easy. I’m not even that good with coding, and I... Well I just scanned the code for the videos and copied them over to a website I created.”  
  
“You created a website?”  
  
Trevor pulled up another tab, this one with a screen that was mostly white, save for the video files that dotted it like blackheads. “ _Any_  idiot can create a website. The trick is getting the right software—”  
  
“Trevs,” Tierno cut in with a sigh.  
  
At least the ginger had the decency to look embarrassed. “...right. Sorry. Anyway.” Trevor clicked one of the video links—the most recent one, judging from the date. “I fixed the coding, and... I’m not really sure what to make of this, honestly.”  
  
Celestine watched as the battle played out. Instead of a Scizor, Alexa used a Heracross in this battle. It utterly dominated it’s opponent. Celestine took a sharp breath.  
  
_A Heracross too...?_  
  
“Its movements are really erratic,” Tierno remarked. And he was right. The Heracross on the screen seemed to dart from place to place in a disjointed sort of way, suddenly appearing and disappearing in a way that didn’t look natural in the slightest. “I’ve never seen anything like it.”  
  
“I have.” Celestine watched the subtle tremors in the air that surrounded the Bug—the Veil, trying to hide the Ascended Form—and her nails dug into her knees. Alexa had been Transcending with a Heracross too?  
  
_Is she mad? The strain that must have on her Aura..._  
  
Trevor stopped the clip and started up another one. “Then maybe you can make something of the Pinsir that ends up in mid-air for half a second.”  
  
An electric chill went down Celestine’s spine. She turned to Trevor with wide eyes. “ _Pinsir_?”  
  
Trevor nodded. The video started, and Alexa sent out a Pinsir—which immediately blinked across the battlefield at unnatural speed. If Celestine hadn’t known any better, she’d have said it was Teleporting, the way it was crossing distance so quickly, but she did know better, and a cold sweat broke out on the back of her neck as the video continued to play.  
  
Trevor paused it, and in the frame, there were two Pinsir. One, on the ground, tearing its opponent’s torso off, and another, transparent version, in the air. An afterimage. Trevor turned to Celestine with an arched brow, like,  _well?_  
  
Well—the Veil had existed before cameras had invented. Eyes, it could deal with easily. Footage, that’s when things got weird. Like now.  
  
But Celestine’s mind was too busy whirling with the previous realization. Three. Alexa was Transcending with three different Pokémon. It didn’t add up—not only was it a boneheaded move and a death sentence for a mortal, but  _how the ever-loving fuck was she still alive_  if she was Transcending on a  _daily basis_?  
  
Celestine bit her lip. There was, of course, one explanation, and she didn’t like it. Yes, she had predicted the Good Doctor to be in Kalos, but she hadn’t expected him to still be conducting experiments, and so publicly at that. Well, he did like flashy results but... He rarely made an attempt to hide his works. His god-complex just wouldn’t allow it.  
  
So either he had an accomplice covering for him, or this was someone else who was conducting their own research using his formula.  
  
Neither was particularly good news.  
  
The video suddenly cut out.  
  
“What the—” Trevor typed rapidly, but an angry red pop-up with an exclamation mark made him halt. His jaw dropped. “Someone just took down the website!”  
  
“Who?” Tierno and Celestine demanded in eerie synchrony.  
  
Trevor glowered at the screen and did some angry typing. Then he frowned. “The source was something called ‘Lazarus Project QC’. The hell is Lazarus? ...aside from the Professeur’s middle name.”  
  
Well, Celestine did have to talk to Hakase anyway. So she called it up on the vid-phone and asked him first thing.  
  
“What website?” Hakase asked when she brought it up, bewildered.  
  
So much for that theory.  
  
“Look,” Hakase began calmly. He was clean-shaven save for a missed spot on his upper lip, his hair perfectly slicked, and his eyes bright and alert. Dressed in a prim, button-down collared shirt and a crisp lab coat—clearly he’d laid off the booze, realizing how important this was. “I realize you think you’re an adult and you can make all your own decisions—”  
  
“I  _am_  an adult and I  _can_  make all of my decisions,” Celestine interrupted, narrowing her eyes at the screen.  
  
Hakase’s jaw twitched, annoyed at the interruption, but he let it slide. “Not legally you aren’t, ma chérie. And this is incredibly dangerous.”  
  
“I’m not afraid.”  
  
“I didn’t say you should be.”  
  
“And I’ve dealt with danger before,” she went on.  
  
Hakase flicked a dark lock out of his face. “I realize that.”  
  
She curled her fingers into fists, nails scratching against the fabric of her leggings. “Then what the fuck is the problem, Hakase?”  
  
He sighed, his shoulders slumping a little. “I just—I really don’t like this.”  
  
Oh for fuck's sake. She really didn't want to repeat this argument again. “I’m aware. But this is the whole reason I’m in Kalos in the first place.”  
  
“Which I don’t agree with,” he grumbled, eyes averting to the left.  
  
_You’ve made that abundantly clear._ “Why are you even calling? What, are you going to tell me you’re worried about me?”  
  
He regarded her with the weariness of a man older than his years. “I am worried about you.”  
  
Ah. Erm. Okay. She had admittedly not been expecting that. But that was okay, just keep holding your ground Lavieaux. “Thanks. But, I’ve got this. Really.”  
  
“I believe you,” he sighed, his accent coming out thick and exhausted. “That doesn’t mean I can’t worry, or disapprove.”  
  
Geez. He was starting to sound like her goddamn father. She took a deep breath. “Did you just call me to say that? Because if so, no offense, but this is sort of a waste of time.”  
  
“Actually,” he said, straightening a little and his eyes starting to widen, as though he were forcing himself to be more alert, “I called to inform you that I contacted Monsieur Looker last night.”  
  
“ _WHAT_!?” Before Celestine could process her own actions, she had leaped out of her seat and slammed her hands against the desk, her glare intense enough to melt the screen. She felt bruises forming on her palms, she'd hit the desk so hard, and people where staring, but who gave a shit? “You— You did  _ **WHAT**_?!”  
  
Hakase held his hands up in appeasement, his face blanching a little. His lip twitched into something like a smile, as though the whole thing were amusing in some way, but it was really more of a submissive gesture. “C-Calmez-vous, ma chérie.”   
  
“Anata wa  _nani_  o kangaete ita no?” she spat. Fury rushed to her head and left her dizzy. She didn’t even process slipping back into her native Kantonese tongue. “Dono yō ni sonoyōni watashi o kizutsukeru koto ga dekimasu ka?!”  
  
His Adam's apple visibly bobbed as he swallowed. The curve of his lips was straightening into a flat line. “I don’t quite understand what you’re saying, but I’m guessing telling you to calm down was a mistake.”  
  
Celestine  _glared_.  
  
Hakase’s expression suddenly grew firm, brows furrowing and lips pursing. He lowered his hands to lie flat on his desk. “Oh,  _don’t_  give me that look. I had to!”  
  
“Where the fuck is that written down?” Celestine demanded. “Like, is it some cosmic rule or something?”  
  
He tilted his face down, like a parent disciplining their child, and a lock of dark hair dipped into his face. “Celestine—he’s your legal guardian.”  
  
For some reason, that remark melted all the tension in her muscles, and she fell back against her chair in a rather exaggerated fashion. She buried her face into her hands, letting loose a noise that was part groan, part frustrated scream.  
  
“On the bright side, the message went to voice mail,” Hakase went on breezily. “So he might not have gotten it. A little odd, but he’s likely busy investigating something.”  
  
Or running that painfully transparent Bureau he’d set up. Seriously, was he trying to be subtle?  
  
There was a beat of silence before Hakase spoke up again, “I doubt he’s going to do pull you out, ma chérie. At most, he’ll probably call to scold you for doing something like this with your team being where it is.”  
  
“What?” she mumbled through the web of her palms and fingers. How did Hakase know the state of her team? Was there like progress monitor in her Dex or something?  
  
“I negotiated with him the first day you left for Vaniville,” Hakase explained, flicking that loose lock back into place. Well, it wasn’t what she was wondering, but it was helpful nonetheless. “He agreed that, if you ever got into a situation like this, I’d be the one to try and reel you in, if he weren’t immediately available. And since he wasn’t, that puts me temporarily in charge of you.”  
  
She lowered her hands, drinking in the way he slouched in his chair, the self-satisfied tilt of his left eyebrow. “The hell did you manage that?”  
  
“I convinced him I would be responsible enough to deal with you,” he replied.  
  
“ _How_?” Augustine Sycomore-Hakase was hardly the definition of responsibility.  
  
“I am deceptively charismatic, ma chérie.” He straightened and folded his hands together on his desk, fingers meeting fingers. “Now, since I am officially in charge of you, I give you permission to do whatever it is you need to in Santalune.”  
  
“I don’t need your permission,” Celestine growled. “And—and you...really didn’t need to do that, Hakase.”  
  
He laughed delicately. “Oh, but ma chérie, I wanted to.”  
  
“Why?” she blurted out. Then paused, suddenly narrowing her eyes. “Do not say because it has anything to with Maman, I swear to god.”  
  
“Well, I was going to say it’s because you can owe me a favor for later,” he remarked, “but that too.”  
  
“That’s not good enough,” she muttered.  
  
His expression became a little serious again. “Which part?”  
  
Celestine lowered her gaze to the grey, plastic desk the vid-phone sat on. “Look—you shouldn’t have to do me favors or worry about me or some other shit just because you knew Maman way back when. I’m not her, and she’s...”  
  
She trailed off, fingers clenching into fists.  
  
Hakase regarded her silently for a moment, cupping his chin with his thumb and forefinger, mouth pulled into a tight frown. “When you get to Lumiose, we are going to sit down and have a nice long talk about your trust issues.”  
  
“ _What_?” Had he really just said that to her?  
  
“Not every act of kindness is an act of pity,” he told her smoothly. “The sooner you remember that, the better.”  
  
After that, Celestine met Serena in the clearing from yesterday and listened as the blonde informed her of a weird but apparently very effective training method.  
  
“It doesn’t sound like much,” Serena went on, holding up a ball of powder blue yarn the size of a baseball. A bucket of several more in various pastel shades sat at her feet. “But this can actually improve accuracy, reaction time, and hand-eye coordination.”  
  
“This is a joke, right?” Tanner grumbled from atop Celestine’s head. She’d long since given up trying to stop him from perching up there, no matter how uncomfortable his claws were in her scalp. Delphi was perched on her left shoulder, Ray on her right. Tyler and Max were at her feet.  
  
“Does getting hit by a yarn ball hurt?” Delphi asked with a nervous laugh.  
  
Serena smiled almost apologetically. “Depends how hard you throw ‘em.”  
  
“This is crazy,” Tanner announced.  
  
“Actually,” Celestine said coolly, “this reminds me of Pokémon Ping Pong.”  
  
“Oh, yes, I’ve heard of that!” Tyler spoke up. “Yes, my old owner was quite fond of it. It’s a partner’s sport between Pokémon and Trainer in which both participate in ping pong tournaments all across the Old Continent. It’s quite entertaining.”  
  
“That sounds even dumber than blondie’s thing,” Tanner retorted.  
  
Serena’s smile froze on her face, and her eyes narrowed. It was then that Celestine decided that was enough human interaction for the last twenty-four hours and it was time to get down and grind.

* * *

The next two weeks slipped by unceremoniously, punctuated daily by calls from “Beladonis” that Celestine ignored periodically and her team picking up a few new moves. Shauna kept her promise and delivered meals to Celestine’s training location like clockwork, and displayed an ability to hunt the Kantonian down no matter how many times Celestine changed locations that bordered stalkerish.  
  
There were a few highlights. Celestine still vividly remembered that one time she bribed the wild ‘mons into battling her team by promising a half-dozen Poké Puffs to whoever could knock one of her Pokémon out. It had been a fucking bloodbath, and they’d spent the entire day warding off the mob.  
  
On the bright side, it had been a productive training day. On the down side, Celestine noticed precisely how far behind Ray had fallen. She had become gradually aware that he was underperforming, likely from the unhealed injury, but it was only when he was the only team member to be knocked out (by a Litleo, a Fire-Type, of all things!) during that exercise that she realized how bad it was.  
  
That night, after discussing it with the nurse (thankfully, a different nurse than the one that Celestine had met on her first day in Santalune), she let Ray out in the privacy of her rented room to discuss the matter. He emerged with his head lowered, as if in shame.  
  
“Hey,” Celestine said quietly. He didn’t look up, and she sighed, crossing her legs. “Ray, I just want to talk, that’s all.”  
  
Reluctantly, Ray looked up. With one paw, he rubbed gingerly at the scar.  
  
“I talked to the nurse. She says you’ve got some permanent muscle damage.” Where Rinka’s Fletchling’s beak had torn into muscle and tendon and even the center machines weren’t able to fix it perfectly. It had weakened his arm considerably, which was only worsened by the fact that it was his dominant arm. Celestine would have almost blamed Rinka, but she’d lost the Fletchling in question, and no one deserved that. “And you and I both know something like that is going to affect your ability to battle.”  
  
Ray’s expression stayed stonily neutral. He gestured to his hip, miming Celestine’s Chain.  
  
She winced. “No. It’s probably not a smart idea for a Pokémon who can’t battle effectively to stay on a Trainer’s team.”  
  
Ray let out a sigh of resignation, then hopped off the bed and began to head for the door.  
  
“Whoa!” Celestine swung her legs over the side of the bed and leaned over to grab his tail before it slipped out of her reach. It was times like this she didn’t mind being freakishly tall.   
  
“Where do you think you’re going?”  
  
Ray mimed trees and bushes and something that it took Celestine a moment to realize were Beedrill wings.  
  
“You’re not going to back to Santalune Forest, Ray. You won’t last a day in your condition.” Rangers even sought out Pokémon that were injured like this and put them into captivity, simply because they were at a decided disadvantage, and were likely to be picked off—survival of the fittest was a cruel bitch. “I’m not releasing you. After this is all over, I’ll leave you at an adoption center. They’ll find you a good home and you’ll get fat from Poké Puffs. Sound like a plan?”  
  
Ray grinned at her.  
  
After that, he became an assistant of sorts, pushing those he thought were lagging and doling out extra Poké Puffs to those that earned his favor. Celestine would watch their antics with a sort of amusement. At least it motivated the team to train a little harder.  
  
That didn’t compare, though, to what happened at the end of the second week.  
  
It was midafternoon, and Celestine had allowed the team a fifteen-minute break—fifteen rather than ten, because they had worked extra hard and Celestine felt like treating them. Call her harsh, but this spartan method of training paid off in the end.  
  
Especially when Delphi started to glow while polishing off a cinnamon Poké Puff.  
  
The Fennekin let out a surprised yelp, but a childlike grin found its way onto Celestine’s face, the kind most commonly found on the faces of schoolgirls who’d just had a chance to flirt with their crushes. She’d witnessed it before, of course, but to witness the wonders of evolution was like watching your favorite movie, or eating your favorite food—only better, and more spectacular, and you’d never get tired of it. That was the best way to describe it, even then, that was only scratching the surface of how wondrous, how remarkable, how  _awe inspiring_.  
  
She watched giddily as light unfurled from her starter in wispy spirals, as his tail and ears lengthened, as his body shifted from quadrupedal to bipedal. She could hear it—the whoosh of cells growing and changing, the crackle of Fire-Type Aura—and she could feel the heat against her face.  
  
When the light dimmed, Delphi was left staring down at his new form, and Celestine was grinning so hard her face hurt.  
  
“Whoa.” The Fenne—no, not a  _Fennekin_  anymore. Whatever he was, he examined his body with a sort of wonder, holding his arms out at his sides as if for balance. He took a step forward, hesitated, and then stepped back, his eyes so wide she could see the sclera. “This...is cool but weird.”  
  
“You look like you’re wearing a tutu,” Tanner snickered, while Max chirruped.  
  
“Agreed,” Tyler remarked, then paused. He turned to Tanner with a frown. “How do you know what tutus look like?”  
  
Tanner quickly went back to eating his Puff.  
  
“Don’t listen to ‘em Delph,” Celestine said when Delphi flattened his ears back and lowered his eyes, as if ashamed. She let her gaze wander up and down his form appraisingly, and she swore her face was splitting. Even  _Draco_  hadn’t evolved this quickly. “You look awesome.”  
  
Delphi looked up tentatively, then his eyes went wide and his jaw slack. “Oh great Goddess, you’re  _smiling_.”  
  
Celestine blinked, smile dropping, while Tanner and Tyler’s heads both shot up. “She  _is_?” Tyler asked.  
  
“I didn’t see that,” Tanner retorted skeptically. He fixed Celestine with a piercing, dubious gaze. “This chick don’t smile, kid. Her face would melt.”  
  
Celestine balked. “I smile!” And then, to prove it, she painted on a rather forceful smile.  
  
Tanner stared at her with abject horror. “Yeah, that looks like you’re baring your teeth and about to sink them into my neck.”  
  
“You scowl a great deal, ma louve,” Tyler remarked. “So much so, that you’re likely to end up with lines in your old age.”  
  
Celestine scowled regardless and turned to Ray and Max. “You guys think I smile enough, right?”  
  
Max chirped, likely not understanding the question. Ray looked up and shook his head emphatically.  
  
She drilled them all extra hard after that.  
  
At the end of the day, she returned everyone but Delphi to their Balls, and as they walked back to the Center, she presented him with the stick from earlier.  
  
“You said your evolution utilizes this thing, right?” she asked, holding it out for him, like an offering. He stared at it with a sort of wonderment, the kind usually reserved for fireworks or a meteor shower. “Can you make any use of it now?”  
  
“Y-Yeah,” he answered shakily. He took the stick into his paws, and Celestine watched as a tawny shimmer surrounded it. Before her eyes, the stick smoothed itself out, thickening at one end and thinning at the other, split ends fusing together, until it almost resembled a wand. “Oh, cool!”  
  
Celestine had heard that some Pokémon, mostly Psychics though, were capable of syncing their aura with objects, but she’d never witnessed it firsthand. And she had to agree with Delphi—it was pretty damn cool.  
  
Unfortunately, her good mood was ruined when the nurse pulled Celestine over and informed her of the Center’s policy.   
  
“The fuck?” Celestine tried to contain her annoyance and not lash out, do not lash out, do not lash out. “What do you mean I can’t rent a room longer than two weeks?”  
  
“There’s really nothing I can do about it,” said the nurse apologetically. “It’s a countermeasure against runaways and freeloaders. You’d be surprised how they flock to Centers—anyway, you can re-rent the room, but it’ll cost you.”  
  
Dammit. “How much?”  
  
“About two-thousand per night.”  
  
Two-thousand a night, for a week. Factor in the amount Celestine has been spending on food and training supplies (like those balloon bots for Calem’s ST device), and... she didn’t have that kind of money. Even if she beat up more Field Trainers, she  _didn’t have that kind of money_. “Can’t I, like, rent a different room?”  
  
The nurse shook his head.  
  
“A room at a different Center?”  
  
Another head shake. “There needs to be at least a week-long gap between renting a room between Centers, Mlle. Not to mention that there aren’t any other Centers in the city.”  
  
Shit. “What about a rest center?”  
  
“The nearest one is on the other side of the Forest,” the nurse reported.  
  
Fucking hell. “Where am I supposed to stay then?”  
  
The nurse winced. “Family?”  
  
“None in the area.”  
  
“Friends.”  
  
“ _Again..._ ”  
  
The nurse sighed apologetically. “I’m sorry, Mlle Lavieaux. There’s really nothing I can do. First thing tomorrow, I’m going to have to ask you to leave.”  
  
Delphi peered up at her urgently, but Celestine just growled and forced her hackles to lie flat. “Fine. I’ll pack my stuff up.”  
  
“We hope to see you again,” the nurse called after them tentatively.  
  
_Fuck you and your entire family._  
  
And Celestine stormed to her room with Delphi following tentatively at her side.  
  
“Are we going to end up on the street?” he asked her, once she slammed the door closed with too-much force. The thud echoed through the tiny room.  
  
Celestine crashed onto the bed so hard the frame groaned, and she groaned with it. She’d like to reassure Delphi that it was very unlikely they would end up sleeping the woods by this time tomorrow, but that was a lie, and Celestine not a liar, you see. She rather omitted the whole truth that outright lied.  
  
So she just didn’t say anything.  
  
There was a knock on the door. Celestine really wasn’t in the mood for company, but now that Delphi was bipedal, he could reach the doorknob when he stood on his tiptoes, and he answered it. She heard the door open and close.  
  
“I’m guessing the nurse gave you the spiel?” Serena, sounding as tired as Celestine felt.  
  
Celestine grunted as she sat up, glaring at the headboard. “Is it even legal to throw kids out on the street?”  
  
“If it weren’t, there’d be a lot less kids on the street,” Serena answered with a sigh. Celestine felt the bedframe dip as she sat down.  
  
Granted, Serena had a point, but it was the wrong point and it pissed Celestine off further.  
  
“That’s horrible,” Delphi said, like that wasn’t already obvious enough.  
  
“The hell am I supposed to do now?” Celestine started to rant, because ranting made her feel a little less helpless, like she could, y’know,  _do_  something about it, no matter how pointless. “My match with Alexa is in a week. I can’t concentrate on training if I have to worry about whether or not I’ll get caught in the rain tomorrow!”  
  
“I actually fixed that,” Serena said.  
  
Celestine froze, then turned her whole body to face the blonde, eyes growing wide. “You  _what_?”  
  
“I just got off the phone with the Professeur,” Serena explained. “Apparently a mutual acquaintance will be renting a chalet in the area or something. We can all stay there for a week.”  
  
“Mutual acquaintance,” Celestine repeated, tasting the words on her tongue. She pursed her lips. A mutual acquaintance of Hakase and who else? “Thanks, Serena. Now I’ve got one more thing to worry about.”  
  
“Huh?”  
  
Celestine shook her head. “Forget it. I’m going to bed now.”  
  
Serena frowned. “Okay?”

“It’s not that I'm not thankful, just... it's the circumstances. Don't worry about it.”

Serena eyed her skeptically, but said nothing, and soon left.  
  
After that, Celestine went to bed. She allowed Delphi to stay out and curl up on the pillow next to hers, because the more practice he had in his evolved form, the quicker he’d get used to it. That was her reasoning, of course—but when she peered at his new, longer body through the gloom, remembering that the Dex had dubbed him as a “Braixen” now, she didn’t deny the swell of pride in her chest. His body heat seeped through the blankets and into Celestine’s bones, and despite the news of being evicted in the morning, she slept soundly.

* * *

Celestine woke up at exactly seven am, packed up her things, folded her bed with imperfect hospital corners, and then made her way over to the café area. The nurse on duty was the nurse from day one, who scowled at Celestine from over the counter as she nibbled on a galette and sipped some oolong. She never was much of a coffee-drinker, honestly, and she pretended not to notice the way the nurse was eyeing Delphi in an almost pitying light.  
  
Shauna came out exactly fifteen minutes later, stifling a yawn behind an olive-skinned hand. Mint was lounging across the top of her head, all but dead to the world and snoring softly. Bleary-eyed, she set Mint down and then went over to the Keurig to grab something hot. Celestine passed a croissant over to Delphi as Shauna returned with a cinnamon bun, then nudged Mint awake to eat a muffin.  
  
“Morning,” Shauna said unceremoniously.  
  
Celestine sipped her tea and nodded once in acknowledgement.  
  
Mint suddenly scampered over to the edge of the table and peered over it so greatly that she had to hold onto the edge to keep from falling off. Her eyes bugged out of her skull. “Holy crap, Delphi did you evolve?!”  
  
Delphi blinked up at her, his tail twitching. He’d stored his stick in the plushness of his tail, for some reason, but the Dex said that was usual, so. “Um, yeah. Yesterday.”  
  
“The crap did that happen? I’m older than you!”  
  
“It’s called training,” Celestine deadpanned.  
  
Shauna looked at Delphi in awe. “Man, I missed it! Why didn’t you tell me?”  
  
“‘Cause you probably would’ve sent me to bed and lectured me about the sleep average of teenagers.”  
  
Shauna only sat there, blinking rapidly, before muttering, “God, you’re right, I’ve been hanging out with Trevor too much.”  
  
Celestine sipped her oolong to hide the hint of a smile.  
  
Speaking of the devil, Trevor and Tierno both emerged a moment later and joined them, both looking as though they could have gotten a little more sleep. Trevor had a Pikachu on his shoulder, whom he scratched behind the ear almost absently. They both sat down, and Celestine watched, wondering what had kept them up last night.  
  
Then Tierno noticed Delphi and did a double-take. “Whoa, Delph, did you evolve?”  
  
Delphi smiled a little and held his head up, as if in pride. “Yeah. It was pretty cool—Trainer even smiled.”  
  
That made Trevor straighten, his eyes wide. “Wait, seriously? She can smile?”  
  
He immediately shut up at Celestine’s glare.  
  
Shauna chuckled and nudged Celestine’s foot with her own underneath the table. “Oh don’t get all grumpy on us, Celie. Honestly, they’re not wrong. When was the last time you smiled, yesterday aside?”  
  
Celestine opened her mouth to fire off a retort, but—then she realized she actually  _couldn’t_  remember the last time she had genuinely smiled, yesterday aside, and she closed it again. Instead, she settled for a glare that rivaled all her previous glares, one that could freeze the blood in your veins and make bones brittle with the cold.  
  
Shauna just flashed a small, victorious smile.  
  
They chatted for a few minutes longer, and Celestine almost enjoyed it (companionship), except for when the topic veered back to her impending match with Alexa. Tierno reported that, from Calem’s reports, his search was coming up empty, and any information he could find on Alexa was rather limited—she was Viola’s older sister, she was a head reporter of the  _Lumiose Star_ , and she was the daughter of previous Gym Leader, Acrisius Dupuis—  
  
“Wait,” Celestine interrupted. “Her dad was the previous Gym Leader?”  
  
Tierno shrugged. “It’s not uncommon for Gym Leader positions to be hereditary. When the League was founded, the eight wealthiest families in the region were given the position.”  
  
“That doesn’t seem very moral,” she said sourly. The title of Gym Leader should be awarded based on strength, not blood. It wasn’t right. And sure, some Gyms were passed down through family, but only after the descendant was heavily vetted by the League to prove they deserved it.  
  
Another shrug, but this time from Trevor. “It is what it is, unfortunately.”  
  
“We can have a look around the Dupuis estate after we get to the chalet,” came Serena’s voice. Celestine looked up to see her approaching, the neat braiding of her hair bellying the tiredness on her face. She came over, but she didn’t sit down. “Shall we get going, or are we still eating?”  
  
Shauna’s mouth curved into a small, pouty-looking frown. “Don’t you want to eat something?”  
  
“I’m not hungry,” responded Serena rather listlessly.  
  
Celestine stood. Anything she ate now would just taste sour.  
  
They headed out after that, this little pack of Trainers with Serena in the lead. Delphi tried to climb onto Celestine’s shoulders, but he was too big and she refused. She could tell it bothered him. Draco had been the same way, when he had evolved. She resolved to discuss it with him later, when they were done with Transcendence training.  
  
Yeah. She needed to pay extra attention to that.  
  
Serena led them to the northern end, explaining that the chalet was located near Route Four. As they passed, Celestine could see the Gym’s roof peeking out against the sea of brick structures, almost like a taunt. She kept her eyes trained on that one point, recalling Alexa’s wild eyes, bloodshot and manic, and Viola’s lifeless body in the infirmary, the staccato beat of the ECG. Blood painting the floor of the battlefield, the sick and dying. That hulking Scizor beast, its massive pincers that could easily tear through flesh and bone, its crimson exoskeleton and it’s burning blue eyes, blank and lifeless...  
  
The chalet was tall and wooden, a slanting, thatched roof and an iron-wrought railing that lined the balconies. No paint hid the rust-colored wooden walls, and the style was simplistic, but it had a certain rustic charm that Celestine could appreciate, despite being born and raised in an apartment building located in a sprawling metropolis. It was built into the side of a small hill, and ruddy clay flower pots adorned the porch, sporting a set of what looked like sunflowers from a distance but Celestine couldn’t be sure from a distance. A few more pots, all clay but these ones painted hunter green, hung from the windows in rows, bright blooms of violet and white and periwinkle bursting from the potted soil. She thought it sort of looked like someone had sprinkled handfuls of confetti in the pots and all over the dark green foliage. A skeletal rocking chair sat on the porch, and sitting in that chair was a pretty woman in either her late twenties or early thirties, with hair that was braided in a thick rope and then thrown over her shoulder. She wore a long dress, green and floral and summery, that clashed sharply with the heavy brown overcoat she wore overtop and the snow boots that adorned her feet.  
  
The woman noticed them and smiled brightly, standing up. An emerald lock fell almost exactly between her olive-green eyes. “Welcome. You must be the children that lovely Professor mentioned. A pleasure to meet you all. My name is Cheryl, but you can call me Mlle Greenaway.”  
  
Cheryl Greenaway—Agent Metsä. One of Agent Knight’s delinquents. Celestine had been warned about them.  
  
Fuck.  
  
Celestine tried to keep her expression neutral as Greenaway approached. “Delinquent” was a mere moniker, just a name for a group of five. They weren’t actually delinquents, they just didn’t always follow protocol and tended to meddle unnecessarily. That was all. No bid deal. It wasn’t like Looker sent Greenaway personally just to scold her. No, that wasn’t it.  
  
Introductions were made. They went inside. Honestly, it was all a blur. The interior was just as woody as the outside and smelled faintly of conifer sap. Rooms were on the second flood, said Greenaway, all honey and sugar, but she needed to talk with Mlle Lavieaux for a minute, okay?  
  
Celestine felt her insides ice over, but no one else seemed to notice. Shauna shot her a look of slight concern before bounding up the stairs.  
  
Greenaway turned to Celestine and all the sweetness evaporated from her features, leaving a cold, hard mask in its wake. “So you’re the girl that’s been giving Agent Looker trouble, eh?”  
  
Before then, Greenaway had spoken with a faint Kalosian accent, a nice twang that made her sound like a native. But the act was dropped and what came out was a voice that was flat and betrayed no trace of her homeland. It was they way members of the IP were trained to talk, to be the enigmatic enactors of justice with no loyalties beyond their organization, no nationalism or outstanding patriotism.  
  
Celestine crossed her arms and tried to look intimidating. Looking intimidating was a great way to fool people into thinking you weren't intimidated. “And you’re one of those freelancers from Sinnoh that work under him.”  
  
“Used to. He’s in Valor, I’m in Mystic—but that’s enough with the pleasantries.” Greenaway crossed her arms as well, standing her ground with all the resolution of a mountain. “You are in unbelievable trouble, young lady.”  
  
“For fuck’s sake,” Celestine grumbled. Didn't she have enough to deal with, without this schoolmarm-looking lady glaring daggers at her? “If Looker wants to scold me, tell him to come down here and do it himself, not send one of his cronies.”  
  
Greenaway’s eyes flashed with anger for a moment, then she forced her expression back into a neutral mask. “Miss Lavieaux, I was not sent here by Looker, but by Commander Blanche themselves. They feel it necessary to remind you that you are working _for_ us, not _with_ us, and that if you are going to continue causing problems, then you will be taken off the investigation. Is that clear?”  
  
Celestine snorted to keep herself from laughing outright. Was this supposed to be a threat? Sure, Greenaway was unnerving, but still, this was laughable. “Spare me. We both know your Commander thinks I’m too valuable to be taken off. I’m the bait, remember? The beacon. You don’t have any other way to draw him out.”  
  
“But you’ve been given a certain amount of freedom, Celestine,” Greenaway retorted coldly. Her eyes winked like stars in the night, and a shiver of cold ran down Celestine's spine. Oh, dear, there was the infamous glare of an IP agent, said to be able to size you up with a single glance. “Commander Blanche is pragmatic, and if they think you’re causing too many problems, they’ll assign you a tighter leash.”  
  
That made Celestine pause. She quite liked the freedom she had, thank you, though she might protest it wasn’t as much as she would have liked. But still. “...Looker won’t let that happen.”  
  
“Looker’s voice is only so strong,” Greenaway said coolly. She uncrossed her arms and let them fall to her sides, but this in no way diminished her strong, tall posture. “If Blanche makes a decision, even Looker can’t overturn it. So I  _suggest_  you get your shit together.”  
  
Celestine was equally stunned and furious, and it was not a nice combination. It drove away her apprehension in an instant. “I’m the only one  _with_  my shit together! If not for me, Alexa—”  
  
“Myself and my partner, Agent Swift, were assigned to investigate Alexa Dupuis,” the agent interrupted, her glare cold enough to make frost grow on the walls. A lump immediately formed in Celestine's throat and she fought to swallow it. “The League may be oblivious, but the IP certainly isn’t.”  
  
What.  
  
No. Seriously.  _What._  
  
Celestine nearly choked on her own breathe. “You  _knew_?”  
  
Greenaway gave her a look, like Celestine was so stupid she couldn’t even put two and two together. It was a pitying sort of look, really, and it made Celestine bristle. “Of course. Did you  _really_  think the IP wouldn’t notice an errant Transcender?”  
  
Celestine’s hands clenched into fists. Fuck apprehension, nervousness, intimidation—what the hell ever. Anger surged through her and drove everything else away but the sight of Cheryl and the memory of Alexa's emancipated face. “So  _why the fucking shit_  didn’t you fucking  _do something_?!”  
  
Greenaway’s glare was as harsh and unforgiving as a Sinnohan winter on Mt. Coronet. “Because before you barged in and wasted two weeks’ worth of surveillance, we were  _compiling a case_.”  
  
“Bullshit!” Celestine’s hands shook violently. She saw the battlefield and felt hot stage lights against her neck and there was that Scizor, gleaming with the color of blood against the tan-white of battlefield. Massive pincers that could tear apart flesh and bone with horrifying ease. “There's  _video links_  and  _witnesses_  and  _everything_. You already  _had_  a case, goddammit! You had  _every_  opportunity to act! So why  _didn't_  you?!”  
  
“Lower your voice, Lavieaux.” Contrary to her frosty tone, Greenaway’s expression softened a little. For a moment, she looked  _tired_. She sighed, stuffing her hands in her pockets, her gaze shifted ever-so-slightly to the left. “Contrary to what you believe, Celestine, the IP doesn’t have unilateral control of the world. We still have to dance around politics and bureaucratic red tape. Instinct was the one who stumbled onto Dupuis’s use of Transcendence, and we were in the process of transferring files when you butted in.”  
  
And thus, definitive proof as to why politics sucked the big one. “Fine. But unlike you,  _I_  have an opportunity to do something.”  
  
Greenaway schooled her features back into a cool, neutral mask—the infamous neutrality of the IP. “To cause chaos, you mean.”  
  
“That’s practically my job description, in case you haven’t noticed,” Celestine retorted dryly. Then paused, regarding Greenaway skeptically. “But I clearly haven't been doing a good job, if nobody's noticed what’s been going on.”  
  
Greenaway huffed a sarcastic little laugh. “I disagree! The media is having a  _field day_. Have you checked the news lately?”  
  
Um. No. Not really. Celestine was too busy training, and no reports had busted been looking for her or anything. She’d sort of just assumed her efforts had gone ignored, just like Alexa’s actions had over the past moth. Clearly that wasn’t the case, though, if Greenaway’s glare was an indication.  
  
“Well, they don’t know that Viola’s lost her position, but they do know that there was a challenge to the Gym Leader’s authority.” The agent pursed her lips, a small crease forming between her brows. “They know it’s been twice in the last month that a single Gym’s authority has been challenged, successively. And they know that, despite that Kalos’s League is the least efficient of the five, that’s not normal. Currently, the media is harassing the Champion and Elite Four for an explanation.”  
  
Celestine frowned, slightly disappointed. “So nothing about me?”  
  
Greenaway scowled. “No. You’re welcome.”  
  
“Wait.” The realization hit Celestine like a smack to the face. She blinked, her jaw going slack a little, because this could not be. “You’ve been messing with the media? How the fuck....”  
  
“We have not been  _messing_ , we’ve been  _containing_.” Greenaway tried to look down at her, and it hit Celestine just then that she was half a foot taller than the agent. Geez. How could someone so short be so intimidating, so commanding and dominant? “Per Looker’s instruction, of course.”  
  
A surge of indignance flooded Celestine, and she bristled again. “He can’t  _do_  that. Again, it’s _in my job description_! He can’t just hold me back because he  _decides_  I’m not ready!”  
  
“Looker is one of the best agents in the IP,” Greenaway snapped. “Don’t badmouth him.”  
  
“Just because  _you_  admire him doesn’t mean  _I_  have to kiss the ground he walks on,” Celestine snapped, folding her arms, squeezing tight around her chest like a noose. Admittedly, she did acknowledge that Looker was a veteran and probably a good agent, but that wasn’t the  _point_.  
  
Now it was Greenaway who bristled. “I advise you to show some respect.”  
  
Celestine wondered how she could be possibly more respectful by acknowledging someone’s flaws and weaknesses, acknowledging them as  _human_ , and still tolerating them anyway. Clearly Cheryl had a different opinion. But putting someone on a pedestal did nothing. Pedestals were made of stone, and stone eroded and cracked and fell apart. And what happened to the people on top of those pedestals, once the pedestals fell apart?  
  
Greenaway sighed and straightened the collar of her coat. “Now, it’s my understanding that you’re to focus on accustoming your team to Transcendence, yes?” She didn't give Celestine a chance to respond. "I will be observing you.”

Celestine felt like she'd been struck. She already had four nannies, and didn’t need a fifth! And especially not one from the _IP_. “What?  _Why_?”  
  
“Why? Because it’s my job, and I take that rather _seriously_ , unlike you, who apparently thinks it’s fun to throw your weight around.” She shot Celestine a glare laced with a meaningful look, and she was clearly trying to be condescending, but she had to look up to Celestine and it lost some of it's effect. “You seem to be under the impression that you have a choice in the matter, but you don’t. Two weeks ago, you not only broke protocol by acting without your superior’s approval, but continued to ignore his attempts to communicate with you. This is your punishment.”  
  
Celestine honestly couldn't believe what she was hearing. This was bullshit of the highest caliber, and that was not the kind you wanted to achieve. “So, so what? You’re going to shadow me all through Kalos now?”  
  
“That depends on your attitude, Miss Lavieaux. In the meantime”—Greenaway turned around so sharply her braid nearly slapped Celestine across the cheek—“go to your room, settle in, and then meet me outside in an hour.”  
  
She was up the stairs before Celestine could object, leaving the Trainer to heave a colossal sigh and stare helplessly at the staircase. Celestine massaged her temple. She felt a headache coming on.

* * *

 The scents of sandalwood and pine mixed into some cloying amalgamation that was likely meant to be soothing, but it just made Delphi sneeze.  
  
“Bless you,” Trainer said in a robotic fashion, not looking up from her task of unpacking her bag, as though this were all some tiresome routine she had grown bored of (she had packed and repacked a lot recently, to be fair). Shauna was still at her side, mirroring her in unpacking but doing so with a less serious disposition. She was humming in a rather jaunty fashion that was obviously bugging Trainer a bit, judging from the looks she kept sending the Hoennian, but she made no comment and kept her gaze locked onto her bag, as if afraid that looking up might reveal something she’d rather keep hidden.  
  
Delphi sniffed and muttered a quick thank you. He glanced at Mlle Devereux, who was too busy examining the room to even set her bag down. It was a fairly large room, one that had enough to accommodate all three humans and then some, complete with a bunk bed and a small TV mounted to the wall, carved out of wood like nature itself decided to accommodate them. An empty bookshelf and bare desk, a closet full of unoccupied hangers, bare essentials that were hollow and picked clean, almost skeletal in nature, as if to highlight the utter lack of homeliness. This was a guest room, one that was not meant for long-term stay, an intermediary place between travel, somewhere where no one was meant to settle down. The renter hadn’t even put of the plants traditionally associated with welcoming, which meant they were probably a foreigner.  
  
Which made Delphi wonder how Oncle had come into contact with this “Cheryl Greenaway”—or so Trainer called her—in the first place. Clearly Mlle Devereux was wondering the same thing, from the way she was poking around and looking through the empty drawers and scowling at the closet.  
  
“What are you expecting to find?” Trainer finally snapped.  
  
Mlle Devereux slammed the closet door shut, her back facing them. “I dunno. Something. A clue to how Greenaway knows the Professeur? I just—I don’t like him keeping things from me.”  
  
For a moment, Delphi could have sworn he saw guilt flicker across Trainer’s face before she turned back to her bag. “It’d be more productive if we talk about sleeping arrangements. So, who’s sleeping on the top bun—”  
  
“Dibs!” came a voice from above. Delphi craned his neck as he glanced up to see Mint settling onto the pillow of the top bunk. She wore a smirk that said that you’d have to pry the pillow from her cold, dead paws and put up a hell of a fight in the process. The top bunk was hers now.  
  
_How did she get up there, though? And so fast?_  
  
“Mint!” Shauna shot her starter a look of shocked horror. “What’re you— Get down from there!”  
  
“Nuh uh.” Mint flopped down against the pillow with a satisfied smirk. “This is our bunk. The rest of ‘em can suck it.”  
  
Mlle Devereux turned to Shauna. “You really need to get your Chespin in check.”  
  
Shauna sighed. Trainer just rolled her eyes. Delphi was still stuck on how she got up there so fast.  
  
There was a knock at the door. Shauna made a move to get up, but Trainer beat her to it and stalked to the door with long, fluid steps. However, the door burst open before Trainer could so much as reach for the handle and Trevor and Tierno spilled into the room like oil. Trevor had a tightness to his posture that made it look as though her were marching into battle, while Tierno looked a bit more confused, trailing in a slightly reluctant fashion.  
  
“I need to talk to—” Trevor broke off at the sight of Trainer, his eyes widening and his mouth clamping shut.  
  
Trainer, however, took it in stride. “I guess that’s out cue to leave. C’mon Delphi.”  
  
Delphi hesitated, not quite so sure that was the case, and it was long enough for Shauna to shoot them both looks of alarm. “You don’t have to,” she started to say.  
  
“It’s fine,” Trainer cut in, not unkindly. “We have to train anyway.”  
  
Which wasn’t untrue, Delphi realized. They had only a week left (oh geez, only one week before facing Alexa’s monsters) and they’d yet to even cover Transcendence, which, given that Trainer was Aesith and Alexa was, in fact, abusing the very power, it was likely to play a key roll in the battle.  
  
Trainer didn’t even wait for him to follow, though. She was already out the door before Delphi realized it, and he started, bolting after her with an urgent “coming!”, but when he reached the hallway, she was halfway down the stairs.  
  
At the bottom of the stairs was a woman decked in greens, from her rope-like verdant braid to her long, sweeping viridian dress. She had wrapped herself in a beige trench coat that was the height of fashion in Lumiose—in autumn and winter. In summer, it was baffling to see someone dressed so ill-prepared for the heat, particularly because summers in southern Kalos were notorious for their humidity. There was even a sheen of perspiration on her brow, but her carefully neutral expression gave away nothing. This, Delphi decided, must be Mlle Greenaway.  
  
Greenaway barely reacted when Celestine reached the bottom, or when Delphi joined her (admittedly almost tripping in his haste), beyond a slow, measured blink. “Are you ready?” she asked, and her voice marveled Delphi—her Common was perfectly pronounced, no trace of an accent of any kind, unlike anything he’d ever heard.  
  
“Yeah, yeah, yeah.” Trainer crossed her arms, her face twisting into a countenance of pestilence. “Where are we doing this? Backyard, forest, basement? What?”  
  
“I have a spot picked out for us,” Greenaway explained. She folded her hands behind her back and started towards the door, effectively giving them a nice view of her back. “If you’ll follow me, please.”  
  
Delphi glanced at Trainer with a frown. “Is she going to watch us?”  
  
Trainer aimed a glare between Greenaway’s shoulder blades. “Unfortunately.”  
  
“Why?”  
  
She snorted and started to stalk after Mlle Greenaway. “My legal guardian doesn’t trust me anymore, apparently.”  
  
Delphi didn’t quite understand what that meant. But he followed her regardless, trotting after her with the sort of loyalty one might expect from their partner. Because they were partners. They were partners.  
  
The woman led them to a secluded clearing in the woods—not Santalune Forest, but some nameless woods that were of significantly less importance. The clearing was embraced by tall, soaring trees and undergrowth on all sides. It was green and dark, lovely and the air tasted sweet. Branches drooped as though burdened, some so low that they brushed the tips of Delphi’s ears. The foliage itself was startlingly dark, too, so much so that the sunlight looked strange against it and the grass underfoot was like neon in comparison. As if to make the contrast less stark, the undergrowth was a moderate tone somewhere between these two hues, not too dark or too glaring. Unlike the Santalune Forest, these woods lacked both a name and the subtle thrum of power, the aura of oldness, of ancientness, that had made Santalune Forest so breath-taking. This was not one of the Old Forests, considered sacred sites by pre-modern civilization, but just a remainder of the old-world that had been left untouched by coincidence. It was just normal wilderness, unimpressive and hardly eye-catching. Perhaps that was why Greenaway chose this as good training place.  
  
And it was secluded, too, Delphi noticed as he watched Trainer settle down on the grass, cross-legged and seemingly serene, while Mlle Greenaway immediately drifted over to a nearby tree and planted herself there, examining them with crossed arms and judgemental eyes. (10/29/17) There would be no prying eyes, no observers here, no one to stumble across an Aesith and her practice of Transcendence.  
  
“Okay,” Trainer began sharply. The expression she wore was stark with intensity, and just the sight of it made Delphi feel like sweating. “Transcendence time. Delphi, I’m gonna need you to clear your mind, or this is gonna get ugly fast.”  
  
He straightened. “Wait, we’re starting now?”  
  
She nodded.  
  
“Like, now-now?”  
  
Again, she nodded, slightly more impatient. “I waited a while because I wanted you guys to be physically strong enough to sustain it, considering none of you are exactly physically compatible. But time’s winding down, so let’s just ease into this, okay?”  
  
No. Not okay. Very not okay. Delphi was far from ready for this, in all honesty. The word “Transcendence” was tossed around so willy-nilly that he’d almost forgotten the sort of weight it could hold, images of those who were unlucky enough to fail in finding balance between Transcender and Transcendee bubbling up in Delphi’s mind. Yes, these were very high stakes indeed, and he couldn’t... he wasn’t ready. Not yet. Not—not yet. Not ever.   
  
But Trainer was depending on him, and she couldn’t do this without him. She even said so. She was counting on him, and starters were of a dependable breed, the kind that stood by fierce and loyal, that stood stalwartly beside their chosen partners. And granted, this partner may have been chosen  _for_  him, but that didn’t change the simple fact of the matter, that she depending on him, putting a lot of her weight onto his shoulders, and if he really was of the dependable Delphox line, then he would do this and hold his head high all the while.  
So he breathed in deep, tightened his grip on his stick, and cleared his mind, just like he had trained himself to do in the past. Psychic abilities took focus, so he’d been trained to focus. And Transcendence took focus too.  
  
“Ready,” he announced.  
  
Trainer’s eyes flashed with cerulean light, the emblem of a saltire emblazoned in her irises and across her pupils. Delphi tried not to flinch when he felt something poke at his mind, some tendril of something foreign and faintly intrusive. A mental link, he reminded himself as he forced his fur to lie flat, was in his nature. He was a born and bred Psychic. It wasn’t a big deal. Calm down.  
  
“You’re more relaxed than I anticipated,” she remarked. She was impressed. He could feel it like a pulsation through the foreign presence in his mind.  
  
Delphi winced and tried to shrug in an aloof manner. “I don’t want to explode.”  
  
“I’d imagine.” Her eyes closed slowly, and her lips pressed tighter together. “This next part is crucial. The most important thing is to  _stay calm_. Okay?”  
  
He breathed in deeply. In. Out. “Okay.”  
  
At his signal, the presence of her mind slid deeper, immersing himself in the waters of his subconscious like a serpent of some kind, but then it spread, like a drop of ink in a pool, unfurling and dispersing throughout his thoughts. It was an odd sensation, but not particularly unpleasant or violating, as he was told that it could often be with those who were inexperienced at mental linking. The next thing he knew, he was hit by this sensation, this rush, something that made the blood in his veins quicken and sing. From the tip of his ear to the bottom of his paws, there was this slow thrum of power, potent and celestial and ancient, like a wellspring he’d never known was inside of him was suddenly tapped, like striking oil or gold. It was a little like how Santalune Forest had felt, but as if the ancient essence of the place had been distilled and injected into him, a chorus to a long-forgotten song ringing through his body in an endless loop.  
  
_Kudos for not freaking out, kid._  Trainer’s voice murmured through his head, bouncing around in echoing whisper, sonorous and deep. It bypassed the process of being analyzed by his ears, instead choosing to resound in the contours of his skull.  
  
He swallowed. Psychic link. Perfectly normal.  
  
A flash of amusement that wasn’t his went through him.  _Or keeping your freakout low-key._  
  
“I’m not freaking out,” he muttered.  
  
_You are, and I get it._  Her voice was laced by heavy sympathy, and he felt her retract a little, further to the corners of his mind, as though afraid to pour herself in any deeper.  _I freaked out the first time, too. And I **still**  don’t like anything messing around with my head. But you don’t need to worry—I’m going to very careful. Promise.  
  
I thought it’d be..._ He paused, noticing the way she was lingering on the fringes, pushing no further than necessary.  _Different, I guess?  
  
Intimate?_  she offered.  _Invasive?  
  
A little?_  Delphi wasn’t sure if either of those were the right words to explain his expectations, his disillusionment at her aloofness.  
  
_Transcendence can be hell if you’re inexperienced,_  Trainer explained, suddenly serious, her “voice” dropping low.  _You’re clumsy, you invade privacy without meaning to, and you run the risk of accidentally trampling all over someone’s psyche. If you don’t keep your emotions in check, you risk flooding the recipient with them, which isn’t pleasant.  
  
...oh._  That sounded particularly worrisome, and like she had some sort of personal experience.  
  
She seemed to realize what he was thinking, because she relaxed a little, and tried to come off as more sympathetic.  _Don’t worry. I’m experienced. You’ll never have to worry about that with me._  
  
It still didn’t explain why it sounded like she had personal experience, but okay, sure.  
  
A great mental sigh was heaved, and Trainer slowly opened her eyes. Through the veil of her lashes, he could make out the azure glow in her eyes.  _Okay. Confession—past me sucked at Transcending. I couldn’t keep myself in check. Transcendence is meant to be symbiotic, but if you’re inexperienced, it becomes parasitic. Past me used Transcendence to channel all my negative feelings, which worked for a while, but it just hurt me in the long run, and it did a number on my partner._  
  
Delphi paused to let that sink in. It occurred to him, at that moment, how little he knew about Trainer’s past, save that she was from Kanto. Previous partner? Who was that, and what happened to them?  
  
Seeming to sense his apprehension, a flare of desperation went through Celestine.  _But that’s not how I do things anymore! I’ve changed up my technique a lot, and I won’t let that happen again, okay? **Promise**._  
  
He was stunned. Trainer was an enigma, of course, but one of the fundamental things he’d learned was that intimate details were a no-go zone. You did not ask. You waited and waited and hoped maybe she’d say something—it was the impression he got, anyway, which had only been proven true. So this was... Well, unexpected was an understatement. Stunned, baffled, pleasantly bemused.  
  
Trainer seemed to recognize that she’d left herself vulnerable, because he felt her walls immediately rise again, defenses coiling around her presence in thick, spiked vines, all cold metal or frosty irritability.  _How about we start testing your enhanced capabilities?_  
  
Delphi knew the moment had passed. And you don’t push with Trainer.  _Okay._  
  
“Oi, Cheryl.” Trainer’s voice came aloud, and Delphi saw Greenaway give a start. The woman straightened, eyeing them both cautiously, which only served to cause a smile to twitch onto Trainer’s face (which was made unnerving by the glowing saltires branded in her eyes). “You might wanna step back. We’re gonna be playing with fire.”  
  
Cheryl’s eyes widened. “What?”  
  
“Delphi, let’s try Ember.”  
  
Greenaway bolted to the side as Delphi whipped out his stick, and he waited until she was a safe distance before he channeled heat into the tip. That was what he was supposed to do, anyway. It occurred to Delphi that he didn’t have a lot of practice attacking in this form, but there was an instinctual know-how that guided his actions, that had him going through the motions of pointing his stick high in the sky (so as not to burn down the forest). His ears heated, and the tip of his stick began to smolder. The word Ember resounded through every bone.  
  
He expected a small flare, a fireball that would burst out in a flurry of burning bright orange and trailing black smoke. Except, what came out was instead a  _firestorm_ , an enormous blaze of smoldering vermillion and amber, exploding from the tip of his stick in a great spiral.  
  
Delphi yelped and immediately cut the Aura circuit, but the damage had already been done. Voracious, flaming tongues snapped at the leaves and swallowed them, the verdant matter atrophying and curling in on itself, before racing to engulf the thick, hydra-like branches. The mental link snapped like a rubber band stretched too far when Trainer bolted to her feet, the unearthly light fizzling from her gaze. The sunburst orange flight refracted in her wide, dark eyes, like snapshots of the wreckage.  
  
“Goddammit Lavieaux!” Greenaway produced a Poké Ball from her coat and threw it. The light splashed on the grass like water, and coalesced into a great serpentine shape so huge Delphi almost fell over peering up at it. White gave way to crème ecru flesh and mellifluous carmine fins and a crown of curling antennae, and a great, piscine tail and fanlike tailfins that shimmered like a kaleidoscope. “Fedosia, Rain Dance! Now!”  
  
Fedosia—the serpent—let out a piercing wail, antennae glistening with aqua-colored light. The air was flooded with petrichor, the sky darkening between the cracks of the canopy. An icy droplet struck Delphi’s nose.  
  
The floodgates opened. Thick, gunmetal-grey sheets of rain descended upon the clearing and battered the fire into oblivion, leaving only blackened, skeletal branches, ones that reached as if to grab one another, as evidence of what had occurred.  
  
Thankfully, the downpour didn’t last too long. No sooner had the cinders faded than the rain abated. All that remained of it was a faintly smoking forest clearing, a pair of thoroughly-soaked humans, a lone drenched Braixen, and a sea serpent with her head lowered to accommodate the relative lowness of canopy.  
  
With deliberate slowness, Trainer raised her hand and swiped her sopping bangs away from her eyes. Droplets rolled in slow motion down her pale face. “What. The. Hell.”  
  
Greenaway glared through her own dripping bangs. “You started a  _fire_.”  
  
“Your leviathan-thing could have just Hydro Pumped it or something,” Trainer snapped as she attempted to wring out her hair.  
  
“Hydro Pump would have demolished the branches,” Greenaway retorted. “Fedosia’s Rain Dance was much more effective and causes less damage.”  
  
Delphi shook his fur out. Wetness was an uncomfortable sensation, a cold uncleanness that could only be likened to standing in a vat of half-frozen vegetable oil, all slushy grossness and oleaginous chill. It was probably the most unpleasant sensation Delphi had come across, so when shaking his fur out didn’t work, he reluctantly raised his body heat in order to burn it off. That did the trick—rainwater evaporated with a great frosty puff of steam.  
  
Sighing in relief, he turned back to Trainer—only to yelp and stumble back when he met a pair of warm, liquid coral eyes.  
  
The head jerked back, and the eyes blinked. “Oof. Sorry there. Didn’t mean to scare you, hun.”  
  
Delphi gasped and placed a paw over his rapidly-beating heart. “N-No. It’s fine.”  
  
She smiled warmly at him. “Never seen a Milotic before, I take it?”  
  
He breathed in deeply. She was very lovely up close. “U-Um. No. Not really?”  
  
A silky laugh. “Well don’t you worry, dear. I don’t bite.”  
  
“Fedosia.” At the sound of her name, the Milotic turned back to Mlle Cheryl. “Thank you very much for your efforts.”  
  
“You’re welcome,” Fedosia answered sweetly.  
  
Greenaway help up Fedosia’s Ball and, in a crimson flash, returned her. Trainer stood nearby, her arms crossed, her expression still petulant.  
  
“Is this going to be how things are when we’re Transcending?” she demanded.  
  
Cheryl tucked the Ball into the pocket of her coat and shot Trainer a look of sheer apathy. “Only when you start forest fires.”

* * *

Two, three days trickled away, and before long Transcendence and the surge of power that accompanied lost the novelty of foreignness. Delphi couldn’t be sure if it was just his evolved form or some deeper instinct, but he acclimated well to Transcendence and soon it became as familiar as the unconscious movement of his own limbs. And it seemed, judging by the reactions his teammates had to the treatment, he wasn’t alone in this.  
  
The first time Tanner performed Gust while he was Transcending, the air was so forceful and intense that it carved a deep furrow into the earth, effortlessly peeling away layers of earth and grass as though it were nothing. This was not an unusual feat—not for an evolved Pokémon, not for a high-leveled Pokémon. But Tanner was just a Pidgey, and that was what made it impressive.  
  
He realized it, too, because when he landed and observed his work, he threw his head back, spread his wings wide, and laughed so hard he nearly fell over.  
  
“I’m king of the birds!” he whooped, and took to the skies.  
  
Trainer returned him before he could, quote, “do any more damage”.  
  
Max took it fairly well enough, though at the beginning he was fairly frantic, and it took a combination of Ray, Delphi, and Tyler to calm down his initial freak out, during which his Gusts sliced into tree trunks and sheered off branches. Tyler was much calmer, and Delphi was admittedly jealous of how quickly he learned to manage his boosted attacks, far more quickly than Delphi had. Only Ray was exempt from the training, being “officially retired” and all.  
  
All the while, Shauna and the others never figured out where they went to train. Probably because Greenaway kept changing the location. Shauna had stopped visiting during training sessions, too, and for the most part, none of the humans really interacted. They were almost like ships passing in the night, save for the occasional conversation and sharing a room each night.  
  
On the fourth day, Greenaway led them into the city of all things. Trainer and Delphi trailed dutifully, with Tanner chattering frivolously atop her head, though his chirruping had long-since been tuned out by the party. It wasn’t until their surroundings changed, buildings growing whiter and reaching higher to the sky. It was after great stone walls began to appear that Trainer’s gait slowed and she did a doubletake.  
  
“The hell is this place?” Tanner muttered, stretching his neck as if to peer over the high stone walls.  
  
Delphi paused a little to scan the area himself, noting brilliant green lawns and dark, decorative hedges and great, iron-wrought gates. The houses were tall, fair structures that looked like impulsive splurges made by some rather haughty individuals who were too caught up in a contest of whose house was bigger to worry about living space. And the clouds had parted around these houses, too, creating great patches of blue in a sea of white and dove grey, as though the heavens themselves approved of these unorthodox constructions.  
  
“Koko wa doko?” Trainer snapped accusingly.  
  
Greenaway continued for a while before stopping in front of the largest gate, one that was twice as tall as she was and had patterns of various insects fashioned into the bars. She didn’t even bother to acknowledge them as she pressed the button on the intercom. “Damare.”  
  
A buzzing noise kept Trainer from firing off a retort. Delphi’s ears perked as a voice drifted in through the intercom, to which Cheryl leaned in and answered, “We have an appointment. ... Yes, thank you, we will wait.”  
  
Trainer was glaring daggers at Greenaway. “Don’t speak in my native language.”  
  
Greenaway remained impassive. “Which one?”  
  
The gate squealed open as Trainer fumed, revealing a vast green lawn and a winding cobblestone path that was dyed in various verdant shades, ranging from bottle green to seafoam, instead of sandier colors. Greenaway beckoned them onwards.  
  
Tanner peered down at Delphi as they marched along the path. “Any idea what this is about?”  
  
He blinked. “Why’re you asking me?”  
  
The bird shrugged. “You’re out more than the rest of us.”  
  
Delphi blinked again, stunned. But...Tanner was right. Trainer let him out more than the rest. More than Ray, more than Max. He’d never noticed it, but it was true.  
  
_Maybe we really are partners..._  “I don’t know what’s going on, monsieur. Sorry.”  
  
Tanner only grunted.  
  
The walk lasted only a couple minutes or so, but the silence of no one else talking made the moments stretch out into almost eternity. Delphi passed the time by counting the number of yellow-green stones.  
  
Trainer came to a halt so abrupt that Delphi almost ran into her leg.  
  
“Is that—” Trainer started, then stopped. Delphi peered up to see a pair of wide eyes and a slackened jaw. He followed her line of sight and felt his own jaw go slack as well.  
  
Greenaway was the only one of them to be unperturbed as she continued to sauntering towards the porch. Well—it was not quite a porch that Mlle Viola was sitting on, but it was close enough to one, this great slab of white marble set beneath a long stone awning, columns lining either side. The former Gym Leader had abandoned her trench coat in favor of less formal attire, a dingy white tank top and rumpled cargo pants. The tank was a V-neck with a moderately low collar, allowing Delphi access to the pink whiplash markings of healing scar tissue that marred her collarbone.  
  
Mlle Viola jerked to her feet once she noticed them. Her eyes were wide and dark, emerald pools. “You must be Mlle Cheryl. And you—forgive me, mlle, but I didn’t catch your name last we met.”  
  
“Celestine.” Trainer shifted her weight awkwardly. “I...didn’t realize you were awake.”  
  
Viola nodded once in a stiff, formal manner. “I was awake three days ago and discharged yesterday. So, um. I—I wanted to talk to you.”  
  
Trainer’s expression became guarded. “Talk me out of it, you mean.”  
  
“No—just. Talk.”  
  
Trainer’s expression didn’t change.  
  
Greenaway shot her a sharp look, brows raised, a look that distinctly screamed behave or shut up. Delphi wasn’t sure how he felt about this woman ordering Trainer around, but Trainer seemed to acknowledge it, at the very least, and schooled her face into a neutral mask.  
  
“Okay,” she said. “Let’s talk.”  
  
Which was how they ended up in what appeared to be the den of a gigantic mansion, sitting before a fireplace so massive Delphi was sure it could easily fit the entire team, Trainer included. The entire room was clearly antique in design, all wood made glossy by lacquer and smooth, chiseled stone that had clearly been carved by expert hands. Velvet furniture faced the massive fireplace—which, of course, wasn’t actually burning, because it was still summer and the AC was blasting on high. A butler (a butler!) brought a platter of biscuits and ice tea, which the three women were currently indulging in. Delphi, Tanner, and Helioptile that kept casting them contemptuous looks when she thought they were weren’t paying attention had taken residence closer to the fireplace, munching on some apparently high-end PokéPellets. Vases of multicolored polyanthus flowers overflowed from twin ceramic vases on the mantle, flanking an enormous portrait of a man with flinty green eyes and a mane of slicked-back blonde hair, threaded with silver, and matched by a carefully-groomed beard.  
  
“So.” Trainer had her long legs crossed, and she held her glass of ice team out as though it might be poisoned. “You said you wanted to talk.”  
  
Viola let out a sigh and set her glass down. “Oui. About Alexa.”  
  
“No shit.”  
  
Cheryl leaped in to mediate. “What about Alexa did you wish to discuss?”  
  
Rather than eating, Tanner was grooming the flight feathers of his wing, claiming that he’d eaten already (which wasn’t a lie, but that was over two hours ago). “So, kid. How’s your life?”  
  
“...fine?” Tanner shouldn’t have to ask—he was around almost constantly. All of the team was. It was hard not to get involved when you were as around each other as they were. “Why do you ask?”  
  
Tanner shrugged and poked disdainfully at his ceramic bowl of pellets. “Hell if I know. I’m bored and trying to make conversation.”  
  
The Helioptile rolled her eyes. “Oiseau à tête vide.”  
  
“Excuse you!” Tanner squawked.  
  
Delphi frowned at her. “That was uncalled for.”  
  
The Helioptile bolted upright, her blue eyes wide. “Tu peux me comprendre?”  
  
Delphi felt an immense rush of satisfaction as he responded with a clipped, “Nous parlons tous les deux Kalosian.”  
  
She looked fleetingly impressed.  
  
“ _My apologies_ ,” she said in Kalosian, having lost a great deal of her earlier condescension, “ _I assumed that you were both unintelligent idiots like those heathens who live in the woods. Evidently, I was wrong._ ”  
  
Tanner’s eyes narrowed, and he folded his wing tightly to his side. “ _What’s wrong with living in the wild, reptile?_ ”  
  
“ _So, were you born in captivity or were you taken in at a young age?_ ” Delphi interrupted placatingly, just as the Helioptile’s eyes narrowed slightly and her frills sparked with electricity. The last thing they needed was a fight.  
  
The Helioptile held herself with all the straightness and poise of a highborn lady. “ _I am the child of a noble lineage. My ancestry can be traced back to the Abadie family of Lumiose, before the Amoses came and took the Gym Leader status._ ”  
  
“ _Oh! I’ve heard about that._ ” Pedigree lineage was not uncommon among the Pokémon of Gym Leaders, particularly their aces. Starters were the only exception to this rule, as they were set breeds who were chosen specifically to be gifted to more advanced individuals. “ _Apparently you end up with lots of siblings._ ”  
  
The Helioptile nodded once, stiffly. “ _About five. I was the middle child, of course._ ”  
  
“ _Wow._ ” Delphi scratched the back of his neck. A brood of six—suddenly his life struggles felt rather inadequate. “ _I was just the youngest of four._ ”  
  
“ _I had way too many siblings,_ ” Tanner grumbled. “ _Lost track. Gotta be at least ten._ ”  
  
Delphi whipped his head around, eyes wide. Five was a lot, but  _ten_? Holy cow!  
  
The Helioptile cast Tanner an irritable glance. “ _Do they copulate a lot in the wilds?_ ”  
  
“The hell are you babbling over there?” Trainer’s voice demanded sharply, just as Tanner’s beak parted to fire a retort. When Delphi turned to her, he found her leaning over the arm of the chair and squinting at them, face wrought with suspicion.  
  
With nerve he didn’t know he possessed, Delphi held his paw to his mouth. “We’re speaking Kalosian. Don’t interrupt.”  
  
He turned back before she could respond (and was frankly scared to) and tried to smile reassuringly at the Helioptile. “ _Sorry about that. Hey, uh, I don’t think I got your name?_ ”  
  
“ _It’s Claire._ ”  
  
“ _That’s pretty._ ”  
  
She smirked. “ _I know._ ”  
  
“What even is that thing?” Delphi heard Trainer ask, blunt and unhesitant, as Trainer usually was.  
  
It was Viola’s voice that answered, with a faint tremor in it, “A Helioptile. Her name’s Claire—she was Alexa’s.”  
  
Delphi felt his jaw go slack, and he eyed Claire entreatingly, waiting for her to either confirm or deny. She grimaced and averted her gaze towards the fireplace, fiddling absently with one of her frills.  
  
A look of rage flashed across Tanner’s face. “ _Is that true?_ ”  
  
One of Claire’s paws clenched into a fist. “ _She’s not like everyone says. No, she’d never abused me, and no, she has never neglected me. So don’t you **dare**  imply—_”  
  
“ _Whoa!_ ” Delphi held his paws up placatingly. “ _No one was going to say anything like that!_ ”  
  
She looked up at him, stunned, her haughtiness all but gone. Then her expression shifted to bitterness. “ _...you’d be the first._ ”  
  
Tanner regarded her with an oddly thoughtful expression. “ _Erm. You wanna talk about it?_ ”  
  
Claire blinked.  
  
“ _Talking helps_ ,” Delphi offered awkwardly, wincing internally at the piercing, probing nature of her wide blue eyes.  
  
She glanced briefly at Viola, then released a sigh bigger than she was and ran her hands over her face. “ _I suppose it’s better you hear it from me...rather than **her**._ ”  
  
Delphi stole a fleeting glance at Viola himself, noting that she was sipping a cup of iced tea with her shoulders hunched in an almost protective fashion. “ _What do you mean?_ ”  
  
Claire’s tail lashed angrily. “ _You can’t trust what she says about her sister. She doesn’t know her—not like I do. They were never all that close, you see._ ”  
  
He tried to hide his frown out of politeness. “ _You think that means she would lie?_ ”  
  
“ _I didn’t say **lie** ,_” she sniffed. The haughtiness had returned, like a shield to hide the softness of one’s weak parts. “ _Her version of the tale is just very different. Biased. Subjective. I know Alexa better, so I can give you a more accurate truth. As such, I can tell you that the reason they weren’t close is because Viola, she was favored by Monsieur Acrisius._ ”  
  
Delphi paused to briefly wrack his memory. “ _Acrisius... he was their father, right? The previous Gym Leader?_ ”   
  
She nodded grimly. Her gaze flitted to the picture frame once but did not linger long before snapping back to them. “ _That’s right. He favored the younger sister and made no secret of it. Viola became his heir. It’s probably because she looked more like him, while Alexa looked more like her late mother, but..._ ” Claire shook her head as if saddened. “ _Monsieur Acrisius always ignored my master unless he was forced to pay attention. It was—she was always trying to earn his approval, but he never..._ ” She paused again, eyes lowering her gaze and her forehead scrunched into wrinkles, her paws clenched. A subtle trembling overtook her frame, and it appeared to Delphi that there was some enormous pain vibrating inside her, ready to burst out. “ _It-It was...a crushing blow to her person, you understand. Can you— Can you imagine if your own father were to completely disregard your existence?_ ”  
  
Delphi could not. He’d really known his father, this absent figure that had existed as a mere concept than a real being, while his mother had been a distant, fitful part of his life. His siblings and foster Trainer were more part of his childhood than parents had ever been.  
  
But Tanner had an odd velvety quality in his gaze that was akin to sympathy. “ _A yearning for affection and approval that’ll never come... It’s fuckin’ toxic._ ”  
  
Delphi turned to Tanner in surprise while Claire took a moment to compose herself. “ _Yeah,_ ” she sniffed. “ _Heh. You and Mlle Aliana would get along._ ”  
  
At this, Delphi’s ears perked. “ _Aliana?_ ”  
  
“ _Aliana Perrin,_ ” Claire explained. “ _A Dark-Type specialist and the Gym Leader of Kiloude City. She’s a good friend of ours. Very supportive._ ” She paused then, reluctantly, guiltily, “ _She’s also away from her Gym a lot..._ ”  
  
“ _I thought Gym Leaders were supposed to be really responsible an’ shit,_ ” Tanner said, back to his usual, abrasive self. Which was good, because the softness was actually worrying Delphi a little.  
  
“ _She is,_ ” Claire retorted in a defensive manner. “ _She just... Ugh, never mind. The point is, she’s a friend of ours and. Well..._ ”  
  
Something told Delphi she was keeping something to herself. “ _Well what?_ ”  
  
Claire winced nervously, looking down. She paused for a moment, seeming to consider something, then looked back up, her gaze becoming pleading. “ _You... you can’t tell anyone, alright? Please._ ”  
  
“ _Okay?_ ” He didn’t understand her wariness.  
  
She heaved a sigh. “ _Mlle Aliana—she was the one who gave Alexa her choker._ ”  
  
Delphi swore his heart stopped.  
  
He flashed back to what Trainer said about Alexa, about the keystone she displayed without wariness or fear of retribution, with an almost righteous lack of self-preservation. It was worn on a choker, according to Trainer. Was that the choker Claire was speaking of now, given to her master by this Aliana person, a Gym Leader of all people?  
  
Tanner caught the Braixen’s eye, the same thought passing between the two with a single glance. The Pidgey turned back to her sharply. “ _Was she different? After getting the choker?_ ”  
  
Claire eyed them warily. The shared look between them seemed to have made her suspicious, but not enough to clam up, albeit she now enunciated more carefully, watched them with eyes brightened by alertness. “ _Not at first she wasn’t. She claimed the Gym, talked about how she was going to make it into a place for the strong. But then..._ ”  
  
“ _But then?_ ” Delphi pressed. His heart was hammering in his chest.  
  
“ _She started... acting differently. She battled a lot more. Removed the badge limit._ ” Claire’s brows furrowed and her mouth tightened pensively, fearful and thoughtful at the same time. “ _Started doing Reaper Battles more and more. Stopped eating and sleeping. Her envy... She was always envious, of course, but recently, it was almost as thought it had consumed her or something. She kept talking about how she needed to surpass Viola and her father, even though she’d already taken the Gym... She was rambling and raving, not making any sense—she was... she was starting to scare me, in honesty._ ”  
  
“ _Scare you,_ ” Tanner repeated carefully.  
  
Claire immediately brought back up that front of haughtiness, and Delphi recognized it as just that—a front. Because Trainer was the same way, he realized. “ _Not like that! I mean, she never threatened to—to... Look. She was acting weird. I was... I was just... **worried** about her. That’s all!_”  
  
_She’s in denial_ , Delphi realized.  
  
“ _I just..._ ” Claire shook her head furiously, and it was then that he realized her eyes were glistening. “ _I just want her to be back to normal. I want everything to go back to the way it was. I—I want to blame Viola, but I know she has no idea either, and I have no idea what’s going on—_ ”  
  
Delphi and Tanner exchanged a look. Up until this point, Delphi had admittedly been demonizing Alexa, thinking of her as some two-dimensional villain, some despicable creature with which there was not even a shred of a redeeming quality. It was a rather naïve way of thinking, in hindsight, because here, right now, was someone who seemed to care for Alexa very deeply, trembling under the pressure of her own internalized hurt and fear.  
  
He glanced back at Trainer, and tried to imagine being in the same situation as Claire, not being able to understand what was happening to his partner and why, trapped in an endless maze of confusion and fear. Trapped in your own obliviousness and ignorance, bewildered and reeling, scared of the utter helplessness this ignorance left you with.  
  
“ _Hey._ ” In a moment where he surprised even himself, Delphi placed one paw on her cheek and used the other to brush back the tears he saw building in her lower lid. “ _It’s not a lost cause, y’know? We’re gonna fight Alexa and beat her, and—who knows. Maybe we’ll knock some sense into her._ ”  
  
Claire’s eyes widened. “ _Really?_ ”  
  
Delphi forced a smile onto his face that he hoped was reassuring, even a little bit. And he forced himself to believe—really believe—that it might be alright and everything would work out in the end, despite an odd stir of dread in his gut. “ _Really._ ”  
  
Such a naïve notion, in hindsight.

* * *

**Current Team:**

_Delphi, Male Braixen (Lv 16)_  
_Docile, Takes plenty of siestas_  
_Ability: Blaze_  
_Moves: Scratch, Howl, Ember, Flame Charge_  
_Met: Vaniville ~~Aquacorde~~  Town_  
  
_Max, Male Pidgey (Lv 15)_  
_Naive, Very finicky_  
_Ability: Tangled Feet_  
_Moves: Tackle, Sand Attack, Gust, Quick Attack_  
_Met: Route Two_  
  
_Tanner, Male Pidgey (Lv 15)_  
_Hasty, Scatters things often_  
_Ability: Tangled Feet_  
_Moves: Tackle, Sand Attack, Gust, Quick Attack_  
_Met: Route ~~Three~~  Two_  
  
_Tyler, Male Psyduck (Lv 15)_  
_Naughty, Proud of his power_  
_Ability: Damp_  
_Moves: Disable, Confusion, Tail Whip, Water Gun_  
_Met: ~~Route Twenty-Two~~  Santalune City_

 

**Retired:**

_Ray, Male Panpour (Lv 9)_  
_Quiet, Likes to relax_  
_Ability: Gluttony_  
_Moves: Scratch, Play Nice, Leer, Lick_  
_Met: Santalune Forest_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heeeey we're almost to the Gym battle guys! Just a quick extra, some world-building, and we're there! Whoopee! After only nine months! (God, if you exist, help me please).
> 
> So, remember the stat Trainers form Sinnoh? They're members of the IP, and yes, Celestine is working for them. Sort of. She's working under Looker, anyway. But now she'll actually get her attitude checked. Also, in the Battle Frontier, one of the Pokemon Cheryl potentially uses is a Milotic. So, say hi to Fedosia (I love her name so much, Fedosia~).
> 
> Yes, I did evolve Delphi before the battle (I tend to overgrind), and I retired Ray. He will be missed.
> 
> Speaking of Delphi, I wanted to delve into his character some more, particularly through Transcendence. I had to rewrite it a couple times but I'm thrilled with how it came out.
> 
> "Acrisius" is a Latin/Greek name meaning "locust", BTW. And finally! We get into the meat of Alexa's backstory! For those of you who didn't read La Vie Est Drole, I did do a few drabbles that cover the Dupuis sisters. They are as follows: 10, 12, 29, 17, and 27 (chronologically speaking).
> 
> You'll notice that I put a Gym in Kiloude, even though it's only accessible in post-game. This was not a mistake, but an intentional creative liberty. More on that later.
> 
> Translations:  
> Calmez-voice = "Calm down" (French)  
> Anata wa nani o kangaete ita no? = "What the hell were you thinking?" (Japanese)  
> Dono yō ni sonoyōni watashi o kizutsukeru koto ga dekimasu ka? = "How could you hurt me like that?" (Japanese)  
> Ma louve = "my wolf", or, more accurately, "my she-wolf" (French)  
> Metsä = Finnish for “forest”  
> Koko wa doko = "Where are we?"/"Where am I?" (Japanese)  
> Damare = "Shut up" (Japanese)  
> Oiseau à tête vide = "bird with an empty head" (French)  
> Tu peux me comprendre? = "You can understand me?" (French)  
> Nous parlons tous les deux Kalosian = "We both speak Kalosian" (French)
> 
> That's all for now,  
> Luna


	19. Extra 3: Travailler le Systeme

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hey! USUM comes out today and I wanted to drop this off real quick before I hibernate for the next week. Please enjoy!

**Extra—Travailler le Système**  
(noun)

  * French for “work the system”



 

 

 

Most Kalosian ladies sipped their coffee with a sort of demureness, a sort of coquettishness that they hid behind gentle curves of a smile and half-lidded eyes—but Bonnie Amos was no Kalosian lady.  
  
Rather, Bonnie Amos was a spunky sort of girl that acted too young for her age and laughed to loudly, who sorely lacked a sense of embarrassment and seemed to possess a spectacular disregard for heat. She guzzled her dark roast latte with extreme obliviousness to the presence of steam, and Calem had to avert his eyes to keep his tongue from itching at the memory of the first time he’d scalded himself on a Lumiose latte. Hot coffee was no joke, especially not from Cœur de Leone Café, where it was served fresh and practically at boiling point.  
  
When he looked away, though, there was nothing to really catch his interest. The lobby of the Lumiose Gym, aka the Tour Prismatique, was painfully bare, all blank and white and pristine like new age technology from a sci-fi film, lined with these shimmering green veins that cast a subtle greenness to the area. But the white halogen lights above were far more overpowering, beating down with a sort of unrelenting mercilessness, as if trying to eliminate all color from existence. A pair of statues stood guard to each of the four entrances as a reminder that this was, in fact, a League-sanctioned Gym and not just a pretty landmark to be admired, but they were simply molds of plastic that you’d probably seen in any other Gym. Bonnie’s desk was a long, flat expanse of colorless plastic with a computer stationed at it and a beige trashcan nearby, set into the southwestern corner and close enough to the wall that the whirr of electricity beneath the metal was audible, like the buzzing of an annoying fly right in your ear. Calem tried to tune it out as best he could. His pointer figure tapped idly against the polished plastic surface as he waited for Bonnie to empty her Styrofoam cup.  
  
“Ah, that hit the spot!” She set her cup down with an exaggerated sigh, the cardboard cup warmer bloody red against the white Styrofoam—Cœur de Leone was famous for their thematic reds. In a rather brutish motion, she wiped the foam mustache clinging to her upper lip away with the back of her hand. “Sorry, I totally forgot what you were saying. Something about Viola?”  
  
He cast Bonnie a sideways glance, regarding her without regarding her. She was of the same age as him, fair of face and with golden locks that, for some unfathomable reason, she took to wearing in a long side-ponytail, and her eyes were ashen blue, like the color of the sky just as it fills up with gunmetal clouds before a storm. Calem knew the color well. He’d seen it so many times that the hue had lost its novelty. But what he was not used to, however, was secretary attire, slacks and a collared shirt beneath a button-down vest. It made her look like a flight attendant of some kind, all professional and dignified, when in reality she was the type to adorn herself in bright pastels, in the loose, sporty attire accompanied by summer heat pooling in the cobblestone streets of the city.  
  
But last summer had turned into last autumn, and last autumn to winter (Calem still remembered the sterile chill of the air, his breath misting as he stormed out of the Tour one last time with a heavy heart), and then spring and then summer had rolled around again. And everything was different, everything had changed.  
  
Now was not the time for nostalgia. There were more pressing matters.  
  
“I was just wondering when you last heard from her,” he explained coolly. Voice even, neutral, betraying nothing. It was situations like this that absolutely required no extraneous show of emotion, nothing that might put his neutrality in jeopardy. He wasn’t even here for her, anyway. He was here on Lavieaux’s behalf. “I know Gym Leaders usually keep in touch—”  
  
He was interrupted by a sharp flick to the tip of his nose that had him flinching back. Amazed and incredulous, he touched a hand to his nose gingerly. She regarded him with furrowed brows and a disapproving pout.  
  
“What was that for?” he asked. Her audacity had surprised him.  
  
The blonde planted her hands on her lips and dare to lean over the counter a little, her face encroaching on his personal space, but he didn’t find himself having the urge to draw back. “You’re being all serious—and I don’t like it. C’mon, Cal, we know each other. Cut the impersonal bullshit. Just talk like a normal  _person_.”  
  
He felt his teeth clench a little tighter, but he didn’t respond. Normal people could be aloofly polite. It was not odd. And besides, how else was he supposed to cope with a situation like this, seeing a person you used to be very close to but hadn’t spoken to for the better part of the year? So yeah, maybe he wants to be impersonal right now. Impersonal isn’t bad, impersonal is safe. Impersonal keeps old wounds from reopening and scabs from tearing and blood from running.  
  
Bonnie searched his face briefly with those storm-sky eyes of hers, and she seemed to pick up on his discomfort at least slightly (she knew him), because she turned back to her computer. “Right. Viola? Haven’t heard from her in a while.”  
  
This didn’t surprise him in the slightest. It only confirmed what he already knew. “About a month, right?”  
  
She blinked at him once. “Um. Yeah... How did you know that?”  
  
“So there was no word from Santalune for a month?” Calem pressed. They say you can’t bleed a stone, but this wasn’t a stone, right? Right? “Nothing on the news, no word from the League that indicated—”  
  
“How do you know that?” Bonnie interrupted forcefully. Her eyes glowed with suspicion.  
  
He exhaled through his nostrils. Not the time. “Answer my question.”  
  
“You answer mine.” Bonnie’s eyes narrowed, but, after a moment, she dared a smirk. “And that’s an order from your former employer, mister.”  
  
Unintentionally, the corner of his lip curled. “Former employer”—now that took him back. Snapshots of summer, working as one of the Gym Trainers among the myriad levels that stretched to the sky, the air thick with ozone as he uncovered the thrill of battle and laughter, the memory of blonde hair and blue eyes and the Amos twins, Gym Leaders of the Tour Prismatique. Oh, but that was hardly the case anymore. Summer had ended, unforeseen circumstances forced Bonnie to retire, and now she served instead as a lowly Gym Guide. It was as unfair a hand that life could have dealt, and while the nostalgia left a sweetness in the back of Calem’s throat, the bitter aftertaste was overpowering, so he simply swallowed.  
  
“Viola lost her position as Gym Leader approximately one month ago,” he explained. Indulging her would help, he told himself. It had nothing to do with her “order”. “Her sister, Alexa, usurped her.”  
  
Bonnie leaned back, eyes wide.  
  
“Alexa is abusing her position grievously,” he went. Now he was the one leaning in, the one in control. “Former employer” indeed. She didn’t quite have that sort of power over him anymore. “I want to get the League involved. Is there any way that can happen?”  
  
At this, she pursed her lips. “You should really talk to the Gym Leader about this sort of thing, Cal. I can get him—he’s not busy—”  
  
“I’d rather not.” The idea of seeing Clemont was not exactly a pleasant notion. Not since... “With you, I can at least keep things civil.”  
  
She sighed and turned back to her computer, her gaze listless as she regarded the screen. “It’s been a long time, y’know. And neither Clem or I hold grudges too long. I’m sure if you just  _talked_  to him—”  
  
Calem’s hand curled into a fist, nails  _scritch_ ing against the plastic surface of the desk. “We have more pressing matters to attend to.”  
  
Her eyes flicked over to him briefly, and seeing the steadfast neutrality, screaming  _not dredging up the past not dredging up the past_ , immediately turned her attention back to the screen. “Fine.”  
  
“Good.” Good. Fine. It wasn’t like he  _wanted_  to see Clemont anyway.  
  
Her fingertips glided briefly over the keyboard in a brief sonata of clicking before her hands went still. “I don’t know what to tell you, Cal. Communication in the League is like a game of broken telephone. Those of us who keep in contact are the ones Diantha doesn’t want to hear from.”  
  
“Like Korrina.” An Aesith, the only Aesith to currently hold a League position in Kalos. As such, a lot of demihuman hate was centralized in Shalour, and the League, pragmatic to a fault, had no desire to pull out their mucking boots and wade through shit’s creek.  
  
“That’s one example.” Bonnie pursed her lips. “Wulfric keeps in contact too. And Viola was spotty most of the time, so I really didn’t think anything of her going silent for a while. But, geez. I had no idea that’d happened...”  
  
“No one else keeps in contact?” He knew the communication between the Gym Leaders was bad, but...  
  
“Are you kidding? The last time I heard from Grant was two years ago.” It was only out of knowing Bonnie well that he heard the implied “prick” when she said Grant’s name. “Olympia’s never really bothered with the whole we-need-to-stick-together mentality. And then Ramos refuses to acknowledge Clem as Gym Leader.”  
  
_Because of our Sinnohan heritage_ , she didn’t say. She didn’t have to. The Amos family were immigrants from the icy north, and their patriarch had won the Gym a few decades ago, before Diantha took the throne and everything started to fall apart, little by little. The twins had inherited the Gym, as was customary in Kalos, but the region was not as open to foreigners as it should be. There were several in the League who were more than willing to undermine Lumiose’s authority, based on the Gym Leader’s too-fair complexion and the mellifluous curl of a stubborn accent that turned ‘w’s to ‘v’s.  
  
Ramos was among those with a touch of xenophobia in him, a veteran of the Crimson War and a stubborn old coot, likely still loyal to the Second Monarchy even though it had long since been overthrown. Neither was he particularly fond of Olympia, who had a more than just a touch of Alolan in her blood (or so Calem had heard, he’d never actually met her in person). There were two of the Crimson War generation, as it was called, that made up the Gym Circuit, but Ramos and Wulfric were diametrically opposed in terms of ideals. Unfortunately, it was Ramos’s that seemed to have a stronger hold within the League itself.  
  
“And don’t get me started on  _Aliana_.” Bonnie cast a glare at the trash can, likely for lack of being able to glare at the woman herself. “Irresponsible as hell, but no one calls her out on it. She can ditch her Gym for months without consequences, but if Clem or I took a week off, we had hell to pay.”  
  
“It might be because she’s heavily involved in the upcoming elections,” Calem offered. Aliana was a prominent member of the Team Flare party, after all.  
  
Bonnie lowered her gaze. “It’s unfair.”  
  
A weight of something like guilt or dread settled in his gut. Calem closed his eyes. “...yeah. It is.”  
  
A beat of silence, filled by the whirr of the inner workings of the Tour and hum of blinding halogen lights.  
  
“I haven’t heard any League news from Santalune,” Bonnie said suddenly. He opened his eyes to look at her, and was met with a worried expression. “Clem and Korrina have been pooling some resources in order to keep Vi’s Gym operating, but a month ago she went dark, and none of us have been able to get in touch with her. That’s all I know.”  
  
Calem sighed heavily and pinched the bridge of his nose. That was it? Was everyone in the dark about this? “Well, that sucks. I was really hoping you’d know something.”  
  
“Sorry.” She eyed him for a moment, thoughtful, and then: “What about your mom? She’s pretty high up in the League.”  
  
“She’s also heavily involved with election season,” Calem explained dully. The reminder that he hadn’t been able to contact her at all during the past three weeks sent a pang through him. It had been like a slap to the face when, each time, it was her assistant that answered and informed him she was busy right now, please call later, I’ll pass the message along, okay bye. “That’s a big workload to deal with. So through no fault of her own, some of her League duties kind of get...  _neglected_ , for lack of a better term...”  
  
Bonnie grabbed her latte again and took another sip, but it was more measured than before. She was heedless of how the steam had long since vanished, how the coffee had gone cold while they were talking.  
  
“I don’t know if anyone will listen to me or Clem if we tried to contact the League,” she said quietly. She was speaking into the cup, so her voice was muffled. The scarlet band of the flimsy cardboard blazed. “Korrina, maybe. Wulfric, unlikely. But us? Probably not. If you’re not all Kalosian, you kinda lose a bit of your voice, y’know?”  
  
Yes, Calem did know. It was a painful truth, a reality that made his gut clench in fury at the sheer injustice of it. This attitude of blood purity and noble lineage was an archaic farce that Kalos would do well to be rid of. But as it was now, he didn’t have that sort of power. The person who  _did_  was the one who wasn’t doing anything about it at best, or perpetuating it at worst. And it needed to change. It so desperately needed to change.  
  
“I’m sorry. I just hoped you could help. I didn’t mean to...” Dredge up this issue, land a blow to her self-esteem, remind her of the skewed injustice of the region in its current state.  
  
“It’s fine.” It wasn’t, but Bonnie forced herself to smile in a reassuring manner, setting her coffee down. “But I’ve got to wonder—you said it was Alexa who took over the Gym?”  
  
“Yeah.”  
  
“Weird.” Bonnie rubbed her chin. “She writes for the  _Lumiose Star_. She’s interviewed me a couple times...”  
  
Calem arched a brow. “What’s weird about that?”  
  
“Well, she said she didn’t battle.” She shrugged, but her expression was thoughtful. “I dunno. Maybe she learned? And she doesn’t seem like the type to misuse her authority either...”  
  
That, you could chalk up to Transcendence twisting her psyche, but Calem wasn’t about to tell Bonnie that.  
  
“Thanks for the information,” he said at a length. “I should probably head back to Santalune.”  
  
Her shoulders sagged. “Sorry I couldn’t help out as much.”  
  
“It’s okay,” Calem told her, even though it wasn’t and disappointment weighed in his gut like iron, but Bonnie didn’t need to know that. “The information you did give was helpful.”  
  
She eyed him suspiciously. At first, it seemed as though she’d guessed at his inner thoughts, but then she murmured, “Are you sure you don’t want to see Clem?”  
  
Honestly? Calem didn’t. Well, he  _did_ , sort of, just to  _apologize_  at the very least, but... Again, there were more pressing matters. “No. It was nice seeing you, Bonnie.”  
  
He made for the automatic doors.  
  
“Hey, Calem?”  
  
He glanced back at her. Bonnie was leaning over the counter, her mouth twisted into a smirk and her eyes sparkling with a playful challenge. False bravado. “Don’t be a stranger, okay?”  
  
His heart panged. He nodded once, and left. Muggy summer heat smacked him across the face. For a moment, he could almost pretend any entire year hadn’t gone by.  
  
But it had.

* * *

“So when were you going to tell us that Celestine was Aesith?” Trevor demanded, his face blown from leaning too close to the hologram transmitter. Blue light glimmered dully against the hard black, plastic table.  
  
Calem inhaled deeply and then sighed. The air was thickened by the scent of flowers wafting in from Route Four to the south, particularly felt on the edges of Lumiose, where there was significantly less population density and the streets were lined with trees, as though the wilderness were creeping into the city. This café was popular for that reason, the closeness to the serenity of the wild and the farness from clogged highways and smog-thickened air. But with dusk encroaching upon the sky, amber and violet congealing upon the horizon in the distance and yellowing the main body of the sky, there were few customers occupying other tables, and the staff were taking advantage the lull in activity to bide their time until closing hours. No one was around to protest against a Trainer and his two rowdy Pokémon, and also no one to eavesdrop or even give two shits about the call—which was great, because Calem was sure this was information Celestine wasn’t too keen on letting get out. A plate of half-touched galettes (famous in Lumiose, by the by, there were about twenty different galette shops in South Boulevard alone) sat next to his Caster, right beside a steaming cappuccino. Both Hayami and Alistair sat atop the table, both enjoying some specialty biscuits, but he could see Alistair eyeing those galettes with a sort of calculating greed.   
  
“You figured it out.” It was not a question, and it never had been. Trevor had always been the smartest one out of all of them, capable of mathematically and scientifically running laps around them since when they were kids. Calem remembered the countless study sessions in which Trevor lectured about math and history, about biology and chemistry. It was inevitable, really, and only a matter of time before he connected the dots.  
  
Trevor pulled away a little, his proportions readjusting themselves. “I also told Shauna and Tierno.”  
  
Calem jumped to his feet. “You did  _what_?”  
  
Trevor’s brows furrowed with confusion. “Okay, what’s with the look?”  
  
Okay. Okay. This might not be so bad. Just, figure out how screwed Trevor was. Calem sat back down stiffly. “Did Celestine tell you she was Aesith, or did you figure it out on your own?”

  
Trevor blinked in alarm. “Why does that matter?”  
  
Oh poor, sweet, naïve Trevor. Oblivious to the sort of wrath Lavieaux could rain down if she wanted. “Because there are varying levels of how screwed you are once Lavieaux finds out you’ve been blabbing. If it’s the former, you’re slightly screwed. If it’s the latter, you’re majorly screwed.”  
  
The look Trevor came him was possessed an utter lack of comprehension. “What?”  
  
How to make Trevor understand... That was a dilemma, wasn’t it? Calem thought for a moment, then recalled the incident at the Route Two rest stop a few weeks ago. “Imagine I went around blabbing about how you were asexual. Wouldn’t you be pissed?”  
  
“Very,” Trevor said darkly. His brows even furrowed as though her were going into nerd-wrath-mode.  
  
“Pretty much the same thing,” Calem told him. Geez, you’d never have thought a short guy like Trevs would be so intimidating. “Except she didn’t tell you.”  
  
Trevor’s face went blank and he seemed to straighten, eyes wide. “Oh... shit, I’m royally screwed.”  
  
“Yup.”  
  
Trevor frowned at him, suddenly. “Wait, how did you find out? Did she tell you?”  
  
“More or less.” Calem paused briefly to swat Alistair away before the Fletchinder made off with his galettes. The bird sulked away with a wounded look and was met by Hayami’s disapproving glare. “I watched her heal a busted ankle. And it was none of my business, anyway, whether she wanted to hide it or not, so I didn’t say anything.”  
  
It looked for a moment like Trevor was about to protest, but then he sighed and nodded with a sort of solemn understanding. “Okay. Okay. Um. Can you tell me one more thing?”  
  
Well, the cat was already out of the bag, so. “Shoot.”  
  
Trevor hesitated briefly, then, “Alexa’s abusing Transcendence, isn’t she?”  
  
Calem felt his shoulders slacken and he heaved a sigh. “Yeah. Bigtime.”  
  
“Fuck.”  
  
“Basically.”  
  
Trevor looked off to the side for a moment, then turned back to the screen. “Celestine’s match is in three days. You should head back.”  
  
Calem nodded knowingly. It wasn't as though he wasn't counting the days himself. “I’m heading out first thing tomorrow.”  
  
“Good.” Trevor paused, lips pursing. “Dare I ask if we can count on the League to show up?”  
  
It was a valiant effort, but Calem couldn’t stop himself from wincing.  
  
“Okay. Okay.” There was some movement, and the hologram flickered for a moment before refocussing. Calem hoped it was just the visual malfunctioning, because he could have sworn Trevs looked worried, which in itself was a bad sign, because Trevs didn't usually _get_ worried. “Just drag your ass back here Lafayette.”  
  
“Will do.”  
  
The call ended.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Calem worked as a Gym Trainer in Lumiose last summer. It was actually what first sparked his interest in Pokemon training.
> 
> Clemont and Bonnie are twins. Yes, I aged Bonnie up from being that seemingly unimportant little girl NPC to give her a larger role as a former Gym Leader. They used to run the Gym Lisa-and-Tate style, but then she was forced to retire and now works as the official Gym Guide.
> 
> Kalos is not a perfect region either. There's a lotta stuff goin' on.
> 
> That's all for now!  
> Luna


	20. World Building 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Been busy with school and USUM. Apologies.

**I. Psychic conduits**  
  
Psychic Aura is an odd sort of energy, in that is labelled as “occult” alongside Ghost, Dark, and Fairy Auras, not because of its elusiveness or because experts are still struggling to decipher its inner workings—in fact, scientists were able to decipher the limits and abilities of Psychic Aura almost immediately. Psychic was one of the fifteen original Aura Types recognized by the League Association*, but there is a single key difference between Psychic and the others. Psychic Aura functions in a multitude of different ways and varieties, the mechanics differentiating from species to species. As one example, a Gallade has Psychic circuits in its arms, while a Malamar has Psychic circuits “braided” with Dark circuits (a previously-thought impossibility). Psychic Aura even operates in a different fashion within non-Psychic-Typed.  
  
One of these peculiarities is the formation of an external Aura circuit, usually taking some inanimate object and fashioning it into a conduit of Psychic ability. Examples include wands (Delphox line), pendulums (Hypno line), and spoons (Alakazam line), simply to name a few. Research reveals that, which it is not a necessity to create external Aura circuits, those that do are significantly stronger in terms of channeling Psychic Aura than those that do no form these external circuits. The case of the Delphox line is unique in that the circuit is formed in the Braixen stage, before a Psychic Typing is added, and thus the wand can utilize both Fire and, upon evolution, Psychic ability.  
  
Other Pokémon are known to create similar Aura circuits out of external objects, such as Farfetch’d and their leek and Decidueye turning its feathers into arrows. This is thought to be an example of certain Pokémon species mirroring the mannerisms of other species.  
  
_*note: Dark, Steel, and Fairy Auras were still being learned about at the time of the League’s establishment of battling regulations and the establishment of Trainer Schools; Dark and Steel would be added a few years after the establishment of the original Type-Effectiveness Template, and Fairy Aura remained an enigma for another five years until a revolution in Aura analysis technology._

 

 

 

 **II. Gym Leader descendancy**  
  
It was during the aristocracy period of ancient Kalos that certain noble houses claimed power. There were eight of them, each one the richest family in a major city of the Kalosian provinces. They formed the Aristocrat Council, using their influence to unite Kalos officially in a way that the House Auberon had failed to during the Great War. Even after the aristocracy was overthrown, these families continued to have an abnormally large presence in Kalosian politics. These houses participated and practiced battling techniques, each one possessing a unique style of fighting that would later earn them fame. In contemporary history, these techniques are revered as the “ _Peerless Stratagems of Battle_ ”, a list of highly skilled battle styles developed in Kalos.  
  
After the end of the Crimson War and the League system was instated, descendants of these houses were instated as the holders of the Gym Leader title, both to gain their support in the abolishment of the monarchy and of their specialized techniques. The notion of inheritance of the Gym Leader title is arguably archaic in Kalos, but its origins are rooted deeply in tradition and aristocracy. They eight “High Houses” as follows:

  * **Dupuis of Santalune** —House Dupuis specializes in Bug-Types, which is justifiable given that Santalune City is located so close to an Old Forest. This house’s specialization is a technique known as  _swarm_ , in which the Pokémon is taught to move with such agility and speed that they can instantaneously change direction and can attack from seemingly everywhere. Scholars have noted that those on the receiving end describing it as though they were “being attacked by multiple enemies at once”. The current Gym Leader of the Dupuis line is Viola Dupuis.
  * **Paquin of Cyllage** —House Paquin specializes in Rock-Types due to Cyllage being carved into the cliffside of the shore. The Gym itself was actually originally an obstacle course of some kind in which those of the Paquin house had to undergo at a certain age, as a rite of passage of some sort. This house’s specialization is a technique known as  _sharpen_ , in which Pokémon are specialized to fight within the caves by narrowing their field of vision and emphasizing the use of their additional senses. The current Gym Leader of the Paquin line is Grant Paquin.
  * **Baillieu of Shalour** —House Baillieu specializes in the Fighting-Type, and was the very first to emphasize the importance of “bonding” with Pokémon. In the early ages before the Blooming, Pokémon could not understand human speech, and were treated in the same manner as common animals, save for their capabilities in both combat and the aide of everyday life. Only the Baillieu house considered Pokémon to be intelligent at the time and worked to form an unbreakable bond, a “partnership”, between Pokémon and Trainer. Their technique, therefore, is known as  _connexion_. The current Gym Leader of the Baillieu line is Korrina Baillieu.
  * **Faucheux of Courmarine** —House Faucheux is located in Courmarine, a town where the earth is fertile and crops are plentiful, so this house specializes in Grass-Types. The Faucheux technique is known as  _tilling_ , in which the battlefield is changed and shaped to better suit preferences of one side, something that is achieved through various status moves and evasive maneuvers. The current Gym Leader of the Faucheux line is Ramos Faucheux.
  * **Abadie of Lumiose** —House Abadie is located in Lumiose and specialized in Normal-Types, originally developing the technique of  _versatility_. It was the Abadie house that first discovered the vast capabilities of Normal-Types during the early ages, before TMs allowed for greater move diversity. Sadly, House Abadie lost control of the Lumiose Gym several decades ago when an immigrant from Sinnoh by the name Meyer Amos won the Gym and changed its specialty to Electric-Types. The Gym is currently managed by Meyer’s children, following the tradition of inheritance, the twins Clemont and Bonnie Amos.
  * **Rouzet of Anistar** —House Rouzet specialized in Ghost-Types during its height. Many speculate that this was due to the nearness of the Laverre Nature Trail (Route Fourteen) and Mélancolie Path (Route Sixteen), claiming that it was sacred land of some sort. These rumors were only reinforced when the Brun Hotel was eventually closed down (known today as “Lost Hotel”). Rouzet house developed a technique known as  _ailment_ , in which their Ghosts whittled down the opponent’s endurance through various status conditions. However, Rouzet lost control of the Anistar Gym almost one hundred years ago when an Alolan immigrant won it and converted it to a Psychic-Type Gym. The current Gym Leader is Olympia Kapule.
  * **Blanchard of Snowbelle** —House Blanchard was considered one of the most noble of the High Houses, which is a rather striking notion given that Blanchard specialized in Dark-Types. Their technique was known as  _pugilism_ , a specialized form of close-quarters combat that involves relentless attacking that gradually chips away at the opponent’s endurance and adapts unorthodox methods in order to shake their opponent’s confidence. The House Blanchard did not lose control of the Snowbelle Gym, per se, so much as it was passed down to another family when the heir, Amelie Blanchard, passed away unexpectedly before either of her daughters were ready to inherit it. Her spouse, who was a member of the Rousseau house, inherited the Gym and reformed it as an Ice-Type Gym. That man, Wulfric Rousseau, is still Gym Leader today.
  * **Perrin of Kiloude** —House Perrin of Kiloude specialized in Fire-Types, something that arose from the arid climate of Southern Kalos. Perrin house created a technique that utilized the climate known as  _swelter_ , in which they would have their Pokémon raise the heat of the environment until the opponent lost the resolve to fight. In recent years, the Gym was converted to a Dark-Type institution by the current Gym Leader, Aliana Perrin.
  * **??? of Laverre** —Laverre, while recognized as such, is a Gym city in name only. There is no High House associated with it, nor does it receive any challengers on a regular basis, and as such is referred to as the “unofficial” Gym of the Kalos Circuit. The currently recognized Gym Leader, known only as “Valerie”, is enigmatic and has not been in contact with the League since its founding. The technique developed in Laverre is tentatively listed under the Peerless Stratagems and is referred to as  _alchemy_ , consisting of an inventive and unorthodox way of utilizing attacks in a different function than their intended purpose. To date, no one holds the badge of the Laverre Gym.



 

 

  
  
**III. Pedigree breeding**  
  
Like Gym Leaders themselves, the Pokémon that serve in the Gyms often inherit their roles from their parents. Under the reign of the House Auberon, battling for sport was forbidden and powerful Pokémon were not to be owned by commoners save for those that assisted with craftsmen’s work. Nobles, however, kept powerful Pokémon as both pets and guards, and were very selective of the type of Pokémon under their care. Pokémon were bred specifically for the purpose of fighting and defending the aristocrats.  
  
This practice was limited during the age of the Aristocrat Council, after the High Houses rose to power, to the point where only particularly wealthy nobles could afford selective breeding. As such, it became common to breed only one species from their menageries, and in the case of the High Houses, this was often the species that was considered the “ace”.  
  
Gym Leaders today still conduct this process of selectively breeding their “ace” species. Dupuis breeds Vivillion of various wing patterns, Baillieu breeds Lucario, Gogoat for Faucheux, just to name some. Abadie used to breed Heliolisk before being usurped by the Amoses, and Blanchard was known for their Zoroark. Laverre is the only city in Kalos with a license to breed Fairy-Types. Another parallel can be seen in the Alolan practice of Trail Kapenas (or “Trial Captains”) selectively breeding their “Totems”, Pokémon that participate heavily in the Trial itself.

Starters, too, are also systematically bred, though they are usually done so in facilities rather than under the care of a Trainer or Gym Leader. In Kalos, this system was abolished just before the Legrand administration took over, but it is still a common practice in Unova, Hoenn, and Sinnoh. The ethics are still heavily disputed.

 

 

  
  
**IV.The division between wild and captivity-bred Pokémon**  
  
It is a known fact that Pokémon raised in captivity and Pokémon raised in the wild have a certain contempt for each other.

Many are baffled by the phenomenon, but research from Prof. Anderson Birch pointed out that this was a phenomenon that manifested in human behavior as well. He noted that, similarly to wild Pokémon, people who grew up in ghettos and faced poverty early on in life will have a general contempt for those who lived more privileged lives. In the same manner, those with privileged lives will tend to avoid associating with those from poverty, lest their bitterness spill over into more violent acts, or simply out of a general disdain.  
  
Birch proposed that this avoidance might be a coping method of some kind in which Pokémon raised in activity refuse to acknowledge the hardship of the wild because that hardship scares them, and they cannot imagine themselves in that position. In the same manner, wild Pokémon develop stronger familial bonds and tend to avoid capture because they do not wish to betray the ideals of “survival” they have grown up with. Simply put, neither wants the life of the other, nor do they fully understand the life of the other, so they mutually despise what they do not understand. Again, Birch likened this to human behavior.  
  
While the scientific community was initially dismissive of the notion that Pokémon could display human-like psychology, the theory has since become widely excepted.

 

 

  
  
**V. Famous figures in History**  
  
_Legendary Trainers/Figures of Antiquity (Pre-League and in chronological order)_  
  
_Kalos (3000 yrs ago)_  
**King Azoth Auberon, “Le Roi Tragique”** —the “Tragic King”, he was sovereign of Kalos during the Blooming. It was said he was the one who constructed a weapon of mass destruction in order to annihilate the armies of the usurpers. This weapon has since been destroyed; it was called the Azoth Flower, or Fleur d’Azoth.  
  
**Prince Anselme Auberon** —Azoth’s younger brother, who sought to usurp the throne. After witnessing the Azoth Flower’s destruction, he abdicated the throne and Kalos became an aristocracy. He dedicated the rest of his life to helping Kalos recover from the aftermath.  
  
  
  
_Unova (approx. 3000 yrs ago)_  
**King Shiraru Sikáápi, the White King*** —the elder of the Twin Kings, referred to as the Protectress in Unovan mythology. She was banished after apparently conspiring to murder her brother and take the throne for herself. Some variations of legend say she was falsely accused. Legend has it she wielded the Flames That Reveal.  
  
**King Kuroga Sikáápi**, the Black King** —the younger of the Twin Kings, referred to as the Conqueror in Unovan Mythology. After an assassination attempt on his life, he banished his sister and become the sole leader of the kingdom. He was famous for uniting the factions of Unova under one flag. Legend has it he wielded the Lightning That Subdues.  
  
  
  
_Hoenn (3000 yrs ago)_  
**Chloe the Gallant** —the first Lorekeeper of the Draconid Tribe, who befriended the Ziz and saved Earth from a massive meteor strike. Though largely dismissed as a folk tale, the myth indicates that Transcendence existed before Aesith entered the scene (as the story makes no mention of the Aesith). In fact, some believe that she may be the first human being to ever utilize Transcendence, if the story holds true. Her ultimate fate is unknown.  
  
  
  
_Kalos (approx. 3000 yrs ago)_  
**Adélaïde Baillieu** —a priestess of the Goddess and an ancestor of the Baillieu house. Some stories place her as leader of the early Aesith, others as the first Aesith. Most, however, postulate her as the first to achieve “safe” Transcendence with her partner, a Lucario. Some sources site her as a lover to Prince Anselme.  
  
  
  
_Unova (approx. 2980 yrs ago)_  
**Prince Kasato Sikáápi** —the White Prince. After the war killed their parents, he was invited back to the throne by his cousin order to reunify the kingdom. The two of them fought away the Void. It is said that he commissioned an alchemist to create the Fusion Wedge.  
  
**Prince Arashei Sikáápi** —the Black Prince. After the war killed their parents, she invited her cousin to rule jointly with her to reunify the kingdom. The two of them fought away the Void and, after the battle, she ultimately dissolved the monarchy to found the first Unova Republic.  
  
  
  
_Sinnoh (approx. 1000 yrs ago)_  
**Moriz** —an ancient swordsman in Sinnoh mythology, rumored to, through greed and youthful carelessness, slaughtered many Pokémon needlessly. He repented for this, however, and his deep display of remorse was said to revive the hope of humanity in a disillusioned god.  
  
  
  
_Johto (approx. 1000 yrs ago)_  
**Nijika** —an ancient Ecruteakan queen and the first Keeper***. In addition to founding the Kimono Girl sisterhood, she also created the Ecruteak Dance Hall for the entertainment of the public and commissioned the building of the original Bell Tower as a shrine to the Phoenix.  
  
  
  
_Alola (approx. 500 yrs ago)_  
**Hoku** —the last king of Alola. Legend claims he “held the stars in his hands”, and when war fell upon Alola, he rallied the Tapus to defend the islands from “invaders of the beyond”. He was the founder of the island challenge and, if the legends are to be believed, he is the one who gave the region its name (prior to this, it was known colloquially as Erebus Isles).  
  
**Malama** —an ancient heroine in Alolan legend. Many legends claim her to be a demigod of the stars, while others say she was simply human. The first to ever complete the island challenge, Malama was the first island champion and was said to have fought alongside the Tapus to cleanse Alola of darkness. She helped create the first Z-Ring.  
  
  
  
_Kalos (40 yrs ago)_  
**King Louis VIII, “Roi de la Folie”** —the “Mad King” of Kalos who waged war on Kanto in the name of power. His campaign led to what would become the Crimson War as other regions joined the fray. The war ended when Kalos rose up in revolution and finally dismantled the monarchy. His beheading was broadcast all over the world, which inspired other regions (save for Unova) to similarly abolish their unjust governments.  
  
  
  
_Kanto (35 yrs ago)_  
**Masamoto Suishou** —one of the three founders of the Indigo League, hailing from Cerulean City. A general during the war, Suishou’s battalion stole the Indigo Plateau back from the Kalosians after they had created a stronghold there. The fort that was built during that time served as the place where leaders met to negotiate peace. Suishou served on the original Elite Four for five years before passing away.  
  
**Agatha Tsubaki** —one of the three founders of the Indigo League, hailing from Lavender Town. Tsubaki was viewed as a town hero for many times defending Lavender from invasion, and founded the House of Memories. She also turned Lavender into a sanctuary for wounded soldiers, and was a good friend of Suishou. He personally requested that she become a member of the Elite Four and served for almost fifteen years, during which Johto and Kanto formed an alliance beneath the League. She was said to have a rivalry with Okido during their training days.  
  
**Yukinari Okido** —one of the three founders of the Indigo League, hailing from Pallet Town, and inventor of the Poké Dex. Okido was a general during the war, but was a staunch advocator of martial pacifism. Unlike Suishou and Tsukabi, Okido never served as a member of the original Elite Four, rather acting as an “organizer” and public spokesman. It was said that Okido was originally the one who proposed the League system, as well as christened it “Indigo” (after the mixing of “cerulean” and “lavender”, the names of the hometowns of the other two founders).

 

* * *

 _*in Unova, the terms “king”, “queen”, “prince”, and “princess” were gender neutral. In fact, in the original old Unovan tongue, the terms were more akin to “sovereign” (often translated as king), “companion to the sovereign” (often translated as queen), “sovereign’s firstborn” (often translated as prince), “sovereign’s secondborn” (often translated as princess). There is no equivalent term in Common._  
  
_**The surname of the Unovan dynasty is a combination of the Native American Blackfoot tribe word for “white” (áápi) and “black” (sik), so the name literally translates to “blackwhite”._  
  
_***a title given to the chosen of the Johtonese gods_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More worldbuilding. Enjoy!


	21. Chapter 7: Essaim (Intro)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nope! Not dead! Thank you all for your support and have a Happy New Year!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **The following content contains DISTURBING IMAGERY. Viewer discretion is advised.**

**Chapter 7—Essaim**  
(noun)

  * French for “swarm”



 

 “ _I am the comfortable, secure  
The  **definition**  of this  **western world**  
And I have  **perfected deceit**  
Even I believe I am  **above saving**_ ”  
—“Song for the Broken”, Barlowgirl

 

 

**VS SANTALUNE GYM:** **The Gym Trainers**

The lobby of the Santalune Gym was still, borderline dead. Women whom Tyler assumed to be workers, as they all wore the same breast-hugging blouses and tight pencil skirts that seemed intent on sending the wrong message, lined the walls and watched with faces schooled into professional masks. Their eyes betrayed them, though, wide and wary as Celestine strode through the space as though she owned it, with her quartet of companions trailing her reluctantly.  
  
Tyler tried to ignore the pricking of their gazes as his new Trainer stopped before the secretary desk and said something to the woman stationed there. He didn’t catch what she said, but her tone was firm and serious, and the gazes of her companions were tinged by concern.  
  
He cast a furtive glance at Celestine through his peripheral, because he knew there would be consequences should he be caught staring. But he couldn’t help himself—he’d known her only a few brief weeks, he’d never seen her dress up for anything, yet it seemed to him that now she had chosen her ensemble with a sort of purpose.  
  
She had adorned herself in the sleek black leather of a long-sleeved jacket, the collar flaring and lined by winking rhinestones; a dark crimson halter top smattered with glitter sparkled in the halogen lights and bared her toned, pale midriff. One hand was poised on her hip, and Tyler could see the crown of metal spikes protruding from the knuckles of her black fingerless gloves. A heavy utility belt hung haphazardly from her curved waist, a large belt buckle bejeweled by silver rhinestones twinkled in the light, and beneath that her navy jeans were splattered by paint of various colors, as well as torn around the thigh and knee. The boots she wore were knee-length, the heels so tall and sharp they might be used as impromptu knives. Tyler had never seen her with makeup either, but today her lips were painted with a rosy shade, her lashes darkened by mascara and smoky violet brushed onto her eyelids. Now, being a Psyduck, Tyler was not particularly well-versed in the world of makeup or feminine beauty, but it seemed to him as though she had done up her face and selected her outfit for the sole purpose of looking fearsome and intimidating, and she was indeed succeeding. She looked like an edgy warrior queen of some kind.  
  
The pigtailed girl reached out and touched Celestine on the shoulder. “Hey. We’ll be in the bleachers, okay?”  
  
Celestine arched a brow. “As opposed to with me on the field? Yeah. I gathered that.”  
  
The pigtailed girl frowned.  
  
Celestine, to her credit, seemed to realize her abrasiveness and the effect of it, because she winced subtly. “I mean—thanks. I appreciate it.”  
  
The ginger-haired male turned to the larger male. “Well look at that. She’s self-learning.”  
  
Celestine tossed him a scathing glare. The blonde girl eyed him in a disapproving manner.  
  
“Let’s get to our seat,” the larger male said too-loudly, grabbing both the ginger-haired male and the pigtailed girl and dragging them over to another hallway. The blonde girl lingered for a moment, looking as though she wanted to say something, but she suddenly turned and followed briskly after her companions.  
  
With them gone, Tyler turned to his Trainer and arched a brow. “Am I to assume that I will be the main force behind handling the Gym Trainers?”  
  
The teenager flicked her gaze down at him. “You are. Good observation.”  
  
It was the most obvious conclusion, actually. He was out, for one thing, which meant she likely need him to be battle-ready at a moment’s notice. Not to mention that, unlike the birds and the fox, Tyler did not boast any Type Advantage that would ultimately assist in procuring victory. If he were to deal with the Gym Trainers, beat down the small fry as it were, then the rest of the team would be fully rested by the time it came to face Alexa herself.  
  
Nonetheless, Tyler felt his pulse quicken in anticipation. His old life never involved this sort of thing. The most exciting thing that had happened was when his professor collapsed suddenly from a heart attack and never woke up, and then his granddaughter moved in and kicked him out. For the most part, his life had been a lazy one, and, frankly, he wasn’t very well-versed in the art of combat.  
  
But he trusted in the training he’d received over the last three weeks, and he was more excited than he was anxious.  
  
The secretary led them to a large door with several stylized insectile etchings flitting around the wooden surface. To Tyler, it looks as though they’re dancing.  
  
“The Gym Trainer test is fairly simple,” the secretary explained, voice oddly flat. “It’s a maze. All you have to do is find and battle all three Gym Trainers, and then make your way to the other end.”  
  
Tyler drew a deep breath at the mention of the Gym Trainers.  
  
Celestine eyed the door as though considering its durability, in the event that she decided to break it down. “I don’t suppose you’re going to give me a thread or something to help.”  
  
“No, Mlle.”  
  
“Thought not.” She glanced briefly at Tyler. “Ready, duck?”  
  
He clapped his hands together and rubbed them in an effort to dispel his nerves. His stomach churned with nervous-excitement. “Not fully, but let’s not allow that to hold us back.”  
  
Her lip twitched and she turned back to the door. “Open it, please.”  
  
The receptionist pressed a button, and the door swung open with deliberate slowness. A hush fell over the room, as though everyone simultaneously decided to hold their breaths. All that Tyler could hear was the shrill squeal of hinges in desperate need of oiling and the sound of his heartbeat in his auditory canal. Beyond the door, Tyler could make out darkness, a black light, and nothing else. It seemed, in addition to being a maze, there was to be a distinct lack of light.  
  
“The best of luck, challenger,” said the receptionist.  
  
Celestine gave no indication of hearing her as she stepped forward. Her heels made audible clicking noises against the tile as she submerged herself in darkness. Tyler hesitated for only a moment before following her.

* * *

The door squealed as it shut and suddenly the light was gone.  
  
Tyler looked around. High, dark walls enclosed them and formed a long narrow corridor, but from there the darkness thickened and not much else could be made out. It was clear immediately that the lighting was not meant to be of much use, for the black light’s influence did nothing to assist in the discerning of any notable features on the walls. All it did was highlight the wisps of fake cobweb attached to the walls, fluttering in a nonexistent breeze and turned stark white by the ultraviolet properties. The air had a mustiness to it, a staleness that made it clear the ventilation was poor and fresh air was a luxury that could not be afforded. It was clear this place was meant to inspire some sort of unease in its victims, but Tyler couldn’t bring himself to care past the boredom that had already settled in.  
  
A mechanic humming suddenly sounded, and the air suddenly filled with a thin fog. Ah, a fog machine. A mere cheap carnival trick in order to add a sense of ominousness to the atmosphere. Tyler saw through it easily.  
  
Celestine, however, immediately straightened, eyes widening. “What was that?”  
  
“I think it was the fog machine activating.” Tyler turned to her in surprise. Her posture was exceptionally rigid, her hands clenched so hard that her knuckles were starting to blanch. Under the black light, her pale face glowed like the moon. He couldn’t believe it. This was working on her? These cheap carnival tricks were playing at her nerves? No... that didn’t make sense. “Mademoiselle? Are you... scared?”  
  
She crossed her arms over her voluminous chest, but it looked more like she was trying to hug herself. Either way, the way her breasts were squished was quite visible through her tight shirt. “Of course not. Baka.”  
  
“You realize that this is simply the imitation of a haunted house.” He examined the surroundings again thoughtfully and turned back to her with an arched brow. A veteran Trainer wouldn’t be scared by merely this, but, then again, they say world-class minds have their quirks, so why not her? “A rather well-executed one, mind you. Don’t you think?”  
  
“Who cares?” She started forward. Her heels made sharp clicks as she stalked forward. “Let’s just get the hell out of here.”  
  
He followed after her, eyeing her back with some amusement. Quirks indeed. This was highly unusual, but not objectionable. He wondered how far he could push it. “Mademoiselle, you have been in a haunted house before, oui?”  
  
“Of course I have,” she snapped.  
  
He stopped. Blinked at her. “You’re  _lying_.” A cackle broke from his throat as the pieces fit into place. “You’ve never been in a haunted house before!”  
  
She stopped and whirled around to glare at him, her shoulders hunched and bristling. “They don’t have Halloween in the Old Continent, okay? That’s a Kalosian thing.”  
  
This stunned him. It was one thing to avoid them out of some childish squeamishness, but it had never occurred to Tyler that it might be a cultural thing, though that theory did have some merit in and of itself. “I had no idea! What do they do instead?”  
  
She huffed, arms crossing over her chest and eye narrows. “There’s an autumn festival or two, but that’s more for the equinox and the transitioning of fall into winter—”  
  
Something made her stop and blink, and she suddenly turned back to the path with the urgency of someone that had just remembered something. It was only then that Tyler noticed how the darkness had given way, how he could finally make out a distinct fork in the road—a division of three paths.  
  
“...son of a bitch,” Celestine grumbled, which summed up the situation perfectly.  
  
Tyler analyzed the situation. Logically, this was to be predicted. The test was a maze, after all. Trainers were meant to stumble around for the first little while in order to test their nerves, then find a Gym Trainer, get directions, stumble around some more, rinse and repeat. It made perfect sense for there to be no visible difference between the three pathways, and even if there was, the black light and the fog made it undiscernible.  
  
Luckily, there was a reason Celestine had specifically chosen Tyler and not the birds for this task. She turned to him dully. “Okay, Psyduck. Do your thing.”  
  
By “thing” she meant using his latent psychic powers to navigate the maze with his mind, sense the right path and track down the nearest Gym Trainer. For the average Psyduck, it might be a challenge, as most of the species were unable to utilize this ability due to the obstruction of a headache. But Tyler recalled the spongey texture and sweet-smoke taste of the Cianwood remedy his old master had given him, so that was not an issue.  
  
He nodded once and placed his hands on either side of his head.  
  
“Wait.”  
  
Startled, Tyler peered up at her. A furrow of reluctance had wrinkled her brow. “Yes, ma louve? What is it?”  
  
“Are you...” She started, then stopped, lips pursing. “Are you sure? That you’ll be okay? I mean, you said yourself that you’re not exactly practiced, so...”  
  
What? That—what? Since when was this a problem? Yes, Tyler was not particularly adept in psychic ability, true. But she had trained him herself, and he had practiced a bit the last couple weeks, had learned the move Confusion through this method. He was more than confident with his abilities in this matter. He had thought she was, too.  
  
So where was this coming from? She had not been so uncertain a moment ago. “Mlle, I am more the capable. Have a little faith.”  
  
She did not seem convinced. The furrow in her brow could hold a coin. “Won’t you get a headache, though? Just by using it? You did in the past—”  
  
“I am Psyduck,” he said flatly, and a little annoyed by her sudden lack of confidence. The remembrance of the Cianwood remedy stung the back of his throat with its distinctive texture. It was the oddest thing he’d ever ingested, but it was not for nothing. “I am born to endure headaches.”  
  
It was clear that she was  _still_  not convinced, and seemed to have only grown more reluctant, but then her gaze slid over to the three paths. A calculating expression entered her gaze, then her shoulders slumped in a manner that suggested resignation.  
  
“Okay. Go for it.”  
  
With her permission confirmed, Tyler allowed his eyes to flutter closed. The darkness was a grounding force, his breath a slow rhythm as it filled his hearing and gradually mingled with the sound of his heartbeat. A moment passed. Another moment. His consciousness rippled like water, like a great, glittering pool of ink that someone had disturbed unintentionally, and then it began to take shape.  
  
He took hold of that shape, imagined the feeling of it in his hands. It was a sticky, gooey, not-quite solid thing, something that was limp and weak by disuse, but had gotten stronger through the practiced repetition of the last three weeks. The power was still untrained and unwieldy, awkward but manageable. He cast it out like a net, let it unfurl and ensnare.  
  
Because he did not know his own range (most of the training had involved telekinetic application, not telepathic), he allowed it to stretch until it felt as though it were straining within itself, ready to rip and tear at a too-sharp movement. It sent a thrum of pain through him, a sharp stretching sensation that had him biting back a shout of pain, a fierce aching like overextending your arm or pulling on a tendon that throbbed through his skull. It was fine, everything was fine. He just retracted his reach a little so that he wasn’t straining so much and—  
  
There! Another mind, one that brushed up against Tyler’s, wriggling in surprise at the Psyduck’s mental presence like a fly that had been unwittingly caught in a spider’s web. He quickly retracted, just enough so that his presence was not touching the other mind, and slowly withdrew, tracing the path with his mind until his consciousness had returned to the confines of his skull.  
  
When he opened his eyes, a throbbing pain emerged in his skull. He groaned, clutching his head in his paws. Clearly he’d strained himself.  
  
“Tyler?” Celestine’s voice echoed. She was knelt down before him, fringe dripping into her glittering sapphire eyes. “Are you okay?”  
  
“Fine, ma louve. All exercise has its strains.” He massaged his temples to ease the throbbing. “Take the middle path. You’ll find a Trainer at the end.”  
  
She was going to develop wrinkles if she continued to furrow her brows like that. Her lips were pursed together like clamps. “Are you sure?”  
  
He was almost offended, but his head still ached. “Mlle, s’il vous plaît. Have some faith in me, won’t you?”  
  
She hesitated for a long time, deliberating, then stood up to her full, imposing height of five-foot-eleven. “Alright. Middle path it is.”

* * *

The Ledyba’s blow knocked the wind out of Tyler and sent him tumbling across the hard, plastic ground.  
  
Wheezing, his attempt for fresh air was rewarded only with a lungful of that misty fog the fog machines were belching out. It sent him into a hacking fit, made it impossible for him to rise to his feet—which the Lebyda took full advantage of.  
  
It slammed into him again, the bulkiness more than effective in pinning him. It didn’t help that his skull was still throbbing from his earlier psychic burst, so when he tried to reach into his wellspring of psionic power in order to propel it off, the only result was another thud of pain.  
  
Just as the Ledyba raised a fist, Tyler managed to compose himself long enough to realize that he wasn’t a Psychic-Type in the first place and could just as easily utilize Water Gun—which he did. The blast hit the Bug in the face and sent it flying, the shell hitting the nearby wall with a sickening crack. It didn’t move, and for a fleeting moment, Tyler wondered if he’d killed it.  
  
There was a flash of red and the Ledyba was returned to a Ball in the Gym Trainer’s hand. A young girl—one with blonde hair and a pleated skirt, something that might, for example, be worn by a school girl of a certain religion. She eyed the Ball in dissatisfaction, then clipped it to her belt. “Good job, Trainer.”  
  
Celestine nodded stiffly, but immediately knelt down to check on Tyler. “Oi. You okay, duck?”  
  
Tyler forced himself to get up, wheezing for breath. Ohhhhh, he was dizzy. So, so dizzy. From now on, he was relying on Water Gun to defeat these Bugs. His poor head couldn’t take it. “Yes. I’m fine. Just—caught me off guard.”  
  
A single nod of acknowledgement, then Celestine rose to her feet again.  
  
The Gym Trainer eyed her with a steely sort of gaze that was far too old for her. She couldn’t be older than fifteen. “You know,” the girl said quietly, “the new Gym Leader—she’s incredibly powerful. And she... if you fight her, you might get hurt—”  
  
“I’m well aware of the danger,” Celestine interrupted curtly. Her gaze was a brand of steel all of its own. “Thank you for the warning.”  
  
The Gym Trainer snorted. “Says every person that’s come through so far...” She looked away, her lip curled into an ugly sneer. “Anyway, I suppose you want me to help you navigate the maze?”  
  
“If you can.” Celestine’s tone was forcefully neutral. A bladed politeness flashed in her eyes. It was impatience, Tyler supposed, that sharpened that blade. Or anxiety. Either one. Maybe both, now that Tyler thought about it.  
  
The Gym lass pointed sharply and curtly directed them down the middle path. “Keep going straight,” was her advice, “the other paths are meant to distract you, but it’s really just a straight path.”  
  
Celestine thanked her without meaning it and headed on her way. Tyler followed after her.  
  
“Are you sure you’re okay?” she asked him once they had left the girl behind them. The silence was thick with the hum of the fog machines and the clack of her heels against the hard, plastic floor. His own webbed feet made a wet smacking sort of sound.  
  
He side-eyed her, massaging his left arm. He’d likely landed on it when he fell. It throbbed dully, a bruise no-doubt forming beneath his layer of waterproof feathers, and the dizzy clung wispily to the edges of his consciousness. “Of course. Why do you ask?”  
  
She stopped and blinked at him. “Because you got knocked against a wall.”  
  
He slowed to a stop beside her and sighed. He thought that might come up. “I was merely taken by surprised.”  
  
Celestine scrutinized him, her lips pursed tightly and curved faintly downward. “Is this going to happen again? Should I be worried about your ability to perform?”  
  
A shot of indignance went through him. He released his left arm and turned to he with the intent to scold—but stopped.  
  
Her hands were clenched rather tightly. Tight enough that there was a faint tremor of strained tendons.  
  
He hadn’t noticed before.  
  
“Are you...” Goddess above, how did he phrase this so that she wouldn’t explode? “Are you alright, mlle?”  
  
She faltered, blinking at him, as though he had just denounced the laws of physics or something of that sort. “Come again?”  
  
He hesitated, collecting his thoughts. Delicately. He needed to be delicate. The bruise on his arm protested weakly. “I understand that they say it gets easier, the longer you do something, but... I suppose that is not the case with this, is it?”  
  
“The fuck are you talking about?”  
  
Okay. Delicate wasn’t working... How about bluntness? “It is clear that you are anxious and your anxiety is making you second-guess everything you were previously confidence about. I’m wondering if you’re alright.”  
  
She bristled instantly, so, Tyler noted, it was probably best to avoid being blunt in the future. “Of  _course_  I’m alright! And I’m not anxious. The fuck gave you  _that_  idea?”  
  
“The fact that you are questioning my abilities now, despite being completely confident about them when you first came in,” he retorted bluntly. Because that was exactly what happened, and there was no point in hiding or sugar-coating it.  
  
Her jaw slackened, but only for a split second. She clenched her teeth so fast and hard there was an audible snap, her eyes flashing with a hint of supernatural light. “That’s—”  
  
“Don’t try and deny it.” A sort of weariness had bled into him, colored his tone, as he observed her—her long legs and stilt-like heels that added to her lanky stature, her tall, lithe torso and narrow shoulders, how she stood so tall and proud. You’d almost have never guess, until you noticed the way she squared her shoulders as if bracing for impact, how her legs were pressing together, how she kept clenching and unclenching her hands. Nervous ticks, anxiety working her nerves one by one. “That Ledyba? It caught me by surprise, admittedly. But that was because of the migraine. It distracted me. It won’t happen again. You don’t need to question my abilities—as my Trainer, you should be well aware of how far I can push myself. What it seems like to me is that your anxiety is starting to mess with your judgement, which is rather disconcerting for me.”  
  
Celestine’s jaw worked, her expression flashing between incredulous and indignant. Gradually, though, it faded, leaving a sort of resignation behind that made her face look like a marble mask. A sigh came out. “You know what? Fuck it. Fuck you. Let’s just go through this godforsaken hell-tunnel and fight that bitch. Deal?”  
  
“But—”  
  
“Let’s  _go_.” Her hair lashed out like the swing of a blade as she turned away sharply. She stalked away with long, measured strides punctuated by the clack of heels.  
  
_Should I worry about your judgement being compromised?_  
  
But he was not bold enough to dare voice the thought aloud, so Tyler heaved a colossal sigh and trailed after her. The bruise on his arm had ceased to throb.

* * *

The Gym lass’s information turned out to be accurate, so they ended up not having to utilize Tyler’s innate telepathy for navigation again. As a result, he was able to think much more clearly, and he defeated the other Trainers with ease—two boys with steely eyes that make them look far too old and wielding Bugs that move with a sort of resignation that seeped deep into their souls. Like the lass, the boys each attempted to dissuade Celestine from proceeding with her challenge, but she icily informed them that she was proceeding regardless of their opinions. The point was, Tyler didn’t end up smacked against the wall again.  
  
He let out a sigh as she turned away and started down the leftmost path of another fork. In all honesty, this was a rather tiresome endeavor, and he’d expected a bit more excitement from the battles. Instead, the remaining Bug Pokémon simply rolled over, let defeat take them. It was most troubling.  
  
“AIYEEEEEEEEEEE!”  
  
Tyler snapped his gaze upward—and almost laughed.  
  
His Trainer was fighting against a very large, very fake cobweb that had caught her in its wispy net. The white of it glowed against the erratic thrashing of her arms and the angry flush of her face. Her frustration was growing to mask her initial fright, and a few Kantonese curses spilled from her lips.  
  
He stifled a snicker.  
  
She finally succeeded in throwing the fake cobweb off. It fluttered to the ground with a lazy elegance, only to be trampled upon as Celestine practically stabbed her heels into. “Stupid—fucking—the hell are these things even here for?!”  
  
A short laugh escaped Tyler and he clamped his bill shut immediately. Too late—Celestine whirled around to pin him with a glare.  
  
“You think this is funny?” she snapped.  
  
The Psyduck cleared his throat. “Considering the fact that you are overreacting to a simple fake cobweb—yes, as a matter of fact, I do.”  
  
Her eyes narrowed menacingly. “Fuck you. Imagine if these things had been real, okay? How’d you like to walk into a fucking cobweb?”  
  
Tyler eyed the discarded cobweb. It had half-tangled itself around the girl’s left boot heel, and there were massive tears in it now. It looked like one of those cheep Halloween decorations you bought at a discount store—he had fond memories of assisting his previous owner in spreading them over the bushes and around the railing. They got few trick-or-treaters so far away from the city, but his owner loved decorating. “Do you have a fear of spiders, ma cherie?”  
  
She scowled, her teeth bared. “I have a  _wariness_  of spiders—like  _most normal people_.”  
  
He hummed thoughtfully. His old owner had not been afraid of spiders. In fact, the old man had not even been wary—he had no fear of the nonvenomous species that lived in Kalos (the only venomous species this far north could be found in Leagueless), and instead liked to catch the spiders to escort them out.  
  
“Oh, shit.” The cobweb was thoroughly tangled around Celestine’s heel. She was trying desperately to kick it off, but it clung stubbornly like a stray trail of toiler paper. “Dammit! Tyler, help me get this thing off.”  
  
Tyler allowed himself an amused chuckle as he took hold of the train. She continued her violent kicking, eventually losing her balance and falling back against the wall. Her skull made a sharp  _thunk_ ing noise as it hit the plastic, and colorful curses fell from her lips like confetti. Some of them were quite interesting. He had never heard “son of a clusterfuck” before, for example.  
  
“Seems you’re enjoying the cobwebs,” came a voice, wispy with a hint of a laugh.  
  
Celestine paused, and Tyler glanced up. A woman had her back leaning against the side of the wall, at the very edge of where the path turned the corner. Tyler had never seen her before, but she was quite a beauty—with a golden bob and catlike emerald eyes and a pair of plump pink lips that were curled into a wan smile. There was no light in her gaze, no playful flicker or hint of laughter, only too-rigid shoulders and arms crossed over her chest like she was trying to comfort herself but also trying not to be too obvious about it. The fog swirled around the soles of her scuffed hiking boots.  
  
“Viola,” Celestine said, her voice colored by surprise. She straightened, which resulted in the web-rope being yanked from Tyler’s hand. He looked between his Trainer and new woman, Viola. Like Viola Dupuis? The younger sister of—oh,  _ohhhhh_ , that made sense.  
  
Viola peeled herself from the wall and made her way over to Celestine. Tyler’s Trainer dwarfed her easily, by at least half a foot. The heels didn’t help—but neither of them seemed to notice. Their gazes warred with each other for a moment before Celestine’s eyes flickered over to the wall.  
  
“Why are you here?” Celestine demanded, but her voice was soft and lacked force.  
  
Viola bowed her head, as though paying her respects to some holy idol. “I came to wish you luck. Despite your protests, I think you’ll need it.”  
  
Tyler watched Celestine’s lips purse and her eyes become half-lidded. There was a long pause.  
  
“I don’t think I will.” Celestine spoke in a slow, measured fashion, flat and lifeless—like it was scripted, rehearsed. “But thank you, for your concern.”  
  
The Psyduck frowned and studied his Trainer. Something was off here. He couldn’t explain it. Maybe it was some intuitive aspect to his latent psychic abilities or something else of that nature, but he got the distinct impression that something had been pushed to the forefront of Celestine’s mind that she had pushed aside earlier, buried in some dark corner to be forgotten. Now it had bubbled back up to the surface, had stiffened her shoulders and tightened her face.  
  
Viola’s brows furrowed, more in confusion than offense. “That’s an odd thing to say.”  
  
Celestine shook her head stiffly. “Look, I’m almost at the end of the maze. Your sister’s nearby. And you remember how last time went.”  
  
“How did last time go?” Tyler asked, a little fed up with being a bystander. Plus, Celestine had only mentioned Viola’s injury in passing, and not in particular as to how it had occurred.  
  
Celestine spared him a glance, but otherwise ignored him. “You really shouldn’t let her see you...”  
  
Viola nodded and touched Celestine lightly on the shoulder as she brushed past. Tyler watched in a mix of amusement and alarm as his Trainer’s shoulders tensed up at the contact.  
  
“Please be careful,” Viola said softly, and removed her hand. “And—bring my big sister back.”  
  
Tyler watched her turn the corner, watched the smoke and the darkness swallow her up. Then he turned back to Celestine, and found her already starting forward, her heels clacking dully against the molded plastic ground.  
  
“C’mon,” she snapped. Her voice was oddly sharp. “We’re wasting time.”  
  
Tyler eyed her back. Oh, yes, something was definitely, distinctly wrong here. She walked as though burdened, her shoulder blades flaring and her hands curled into fists so tight the knuckles were beginning to lose what little color they had. Her dark hair swung with each step like a pendulum. The fake cobweb had not been untangled, and it glowed as it trailed after her.  
  
He plodded after her before she could disappear into the darkness.

* * *

The light at the end of the tunnel was bloody red.  
  
Cobwebs lined the walls in gauzy layers, like giant bandages over gaping wounds, and fluttered ethereally in a nonexistent breeze. Smoke poured out of the corners of the chamber in cascades, which only added to the Halloween aesthetic—but unlike the maze, this was not tacky, and it inspired a genuine trickle of fear down Tyler’s spine.  
  
A woman lounged upon a throne that was placed against the back wall. It was probably lovely once, the throne. Tyler could make out places where it looked like the wood had been broken off, where stencils of insectile figures had been clawed at and where the name “Dupuis”, carved proudly on the headboard, had been striked through. Hints of gilded designs shone sickly golden in the bloody light, but most of it had been scraped away, leaving nothing but deep scour marks in the wood. The whole thing was scratched up and battered, torn into and shredded like it had played scratching post to some beast. Tyler didn’t know of anything that could make scour marks like that. An Absol, for instance, might have big enough claws, but those claws were mostly for grip and they grew blunt from climbing the mountains, so they would not have left such deep marks. Whatever the case, all traces of its former resplendence was long-gone.  
  
The same could be said for the woman who lounged upon it with her feet on the armrest and the back of her hand supporting her jaw. Her skin was pale, bloodless white, like bone dust had been mixed with water and painted over her, or like she was made out of eggshell that might crumble if she was hit too hard. Though short, her brown hair was matted, and an errant lock stuck out to fall over her wild, malachite eyes. The angles of her face were too-sharp, skin clinging desperately to her skeleton and cheekbones jutting, arms thin as sticks and fingers like twigs. She wore a smile that was fierce, almost feral in nature, her teeth yellow as she leered down at them, the way a predator does when they size up their prey. Her clothing was tattered, crimson and black, something that might have been stylish once but was now a ragged disgrace for an ensemble. The nails at the ends of her fingers were sharpened into points, and the black choker around her neck sported a crimson-black pearl that looked almost like it was throbbing.   
  
“So you’ve come at last,” purred the woman, who could not be anyone other than the infamous Alexa Dupuis. Her smile was chilling, and Tyler found himself taking a step back. There was something feral in her eyes, something that unnerved him on a deep, fundamental level. Instinct screamed at him to keep away. This was a goddess in the late stage of decay. “I was starting to think you wouldn’t arrive, Celestine Lavieaux. My web has been quivering in anticipation all day.”  
  
“Fuck you and your web.” Celestine took a single step forward, shoulders squared and head held high. She looked like a woman charging into war, fearless and unafraid—a sharp contrast to the jittery young woman, frantic and prone to violent outbursts, that Tyler had seen in the maze. “I’m not a coward. I don’t run from a fight.”  
  
Alexa’s lips were grey and cracked and bleeding as she smiled. Crimson welled up and was swiped away by her quick pink tongue. She sat up, resting each arm on the armrests, and crossed her legs in a manner that would have made her look regal were she not so emancipated. “Yes, you are the worst sort of fly. The stubborn kind. But I like that kind—their death throes are always the best to watch as they writhe against my web.”  
  
_She certainly likes her metaphors_ , Tyler noted. Then he glanced at the wall—and froze.  
  
The webs on the walls were not empty. Trapped in the cocoon were heads—severed heads, all dried out and leathery, the mouths hanging open as if mid-scream, rotted teeth lined leathery lips. Matted hair tangled with the webbing, the empty eye sockets gaping like giant black voids. The noses and cheek sacs were flayed, shredded layers of skin hanging loosely. There was a faint stench of rot, sickly sweet, permeated the air, along with the vapor of faux smoke. A wave of nausea washed over Tyler, and he fought the nearly overwhelming urge to retch.  
  
“Didn’t I tell you to stop with the fucking web shit?” Celestine growled. She had not noticed the collection of severed heads. Her back was dark and imposing, her skin glowed an unearthly white.  
  
Alexa tilted her head to the side, eyes glittering with a sick bastardization of amusement. “You say that, with a trail of web on your foot?”  
  
Celestine blinked, her steadfast presence faltering. Then looked down, noting the long trail of faux web that was still tangled around her left heel. Tyler watched as her cheeks colored and she shot him a glare.  
  
“Why the fuck didn’t you tell me about this?” she hissed, half-angry and half-embarrassed. “I look like I’ve got a toilet paper tail!”  
  
“You never asked,” was the answer he gave. It was meant to be witty and nonchalant, but it came out mumbled, softened by the horror still throbbing in his veins. Because those heads had once been living things. They had been humans and Pokémon that this woman—that wretched brunette on the throne—had beheaded, bodies that had been desecrated.  
  
Her brows furrowed and her gaze flickered over to the walls—scanning, analyzing, processing—then turned back to Alexa. Though the expression in her eyes had gotten flintier and her fists tightened subtly, there was no indication of shock or horror of some kind, no reaction beyond a grim sort of acknowledgement. “Well, again, fuck you and your web. I’m the blade that’s going to tear it to shreds.”  
  
Tyler winced as Alexa rose to her feet in a fashion so deliberately slow it was almost as though she were arthritic. A sharp, broken-sounding laugh bubbled from her throat, pitchy and off-kilter. “We’ll see about that, Lavieaux! Come! To the battlefield!”  
  
Two sections of the wall, one on either side of the throne, slid upwards with the creak of chains, revealing twin corridors. Tyler could make out only a yawning blackness, and he had to legitimately wonder what it was with this Gym and poor lighting. Budget cuts, maybe? Aesthetic? Whatever the case, Alexa sauntered over to the left one and disappeared into it, and with a groan, the door fell back down like the blade of a guillotine.  
  
“Well then.” She turned to him and enlarged his Ball. There was a grimness in her face that made her presence seem to fill up the whole room. “Thanks for your help, Tyler. Me and rest of the team have it from here.”  
  
He nodded, but didn’t take his eyes off the heads. “Good luck, mlle.”  
  
Then his vision became stained with carmine light, and he slept.

* * *

**Current Team:**

_Delphi, Male Braixen (Lv 16)  
_ _Docile, Takes plenty of siestas  
_ _Ability: Blaze  
_ _Moves: Scratch, Howl, Ember, Flame Charge  
_ _Met: Vaniville ~~Aquacorde~~  Town_

  
_Max, Male Pidgey (Lv 15)_  
_Naive, Very finicky_  
_Ability: Tangled Feet_  
_Moves: Tackle, Sand Attack, Gust, Quick Attack_  
_Met: Route Two_  
  
_Tanner, Male Pidgey (Lv 15)_  
_Hasty, Scatters things often_  
_Ability: Tangled Feet_  
_Moves: Tackle, Sand Attack, Gust, Quick Attack_  
_Met: Route ~~Three~~  Two_  
  
_Tyler, Male Psyduck (Lv 15)_  
_Naughty, Proud of his power_  
_Ability: Damp_  
_Moves: Disable, Confusion, Tail Whip, Water Gun_  
_Met: ~~Route Twenty-Two~~  Santalune City_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is just an introduction to the chapter, but I'm writing the Gym battle now. The next part should be up sometime next week.
> 
> (Honestly Kinda thought I'd at least be in Lumiose by now but... life. I'm gonna use this week to labor on my run I promise.)
> 
> But hey! Tyler's perspective! I had fun with the telepathy scene. And Alexa is seriously fucked-up in the head!
> 
> Lots of Halloween vibes, eh?
> 
> Please enjoy,  
> Luna


	22. Chapter 7: Essaim (Part 1)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **The following content contains DISTURBING IMAGERY, STRONG LANGUAGE, and VIOLENCE AND GORE. Viewer discretion is advised.**

**Chapter 7—Essaim**  
(noun)

  * French for “swarm”



 

 

 

**VS SANTALUNE GYM (Part 1)**

The battlefield sprawled out before Tanner, vast and intimidating and burning against the back of his corneas. It wasn’t like the undergrowth of the Forest, which could tangle you up if you weren’t careful, but Tanner got the distinct impression that the field could still swallow him up just the same.  
  
It was terrifying. It was thrilling. Pre-adrenaline throbbed in his veins as the Alexa woman took the other side of the field. She was far away, so she was no more than a blurry smudge on the other end, dark and foreboding but ultimately insignificant.  
  
“So you missed the announcement of the rules,” Trainer Girl informed them after the announcer finished his rambling. “Them” being the fox, the kid, and Tanner himself. Trainer Girl herself wore dark colors and she didn’t bother to spare them a glance. Her gaze was too busy scanning the field, calculating, analyzing, her mind spinning with strategies. “But basically, it’s this—each of us are using three Pokémon. Once you’re in, I can’t switch you out until either you beat your opponent, or...”  
  
She didn’t finish, nor did she need to. Tanner knew what a Reaper Battle meant.  
  
“And once you’re out, you’re out,” she continued, keeping her voice level, even. “No going back in. No switching  _unless you absolutely have to_.”  
  
The fox started to look nervous, but Tanner just nodded.  
  
She crossed her arms. “There’s also no healing allowed. On either side. Understand?”  
  
“ _We get it_ ,” Tanner grumbled in Kalosian. He just wanted to wreck shit and get this over with.  
  
They were all out, lined up at the edge of the field like toy soldiers in a mock war. The kid looked absolutely clueless, glancing around with a puzzled expression as he tried to determine what was going on, while the fox clutched his stick to his chest and stood rigidly, ears pinned back against his skull. Tanner himself was bristling with anticipation, his feathers ruffled. He kept hopping from one foot to the other, the memory of a Weedle’s sting replaying in his mind and a dull ache emanating from where the near-fatal wound had left a scar on the underside of his right wing. The anxiety was squeezing at his chest, clutching at his heart, making every part of him itch like a fire had been ignited beneath his feathers. He wanted nothing more than to start tearing into things, start cracking carapaces and watching Bug-goo well up from the breaks.  
  
Alexa released a Bug he had never seen before—sleek brown carapace, wild eyes, and an enormous stature. Its massive curving horns towered over it in twin crescents, littered with spikes and gnashing like a pair of jaws. Tanner could make out dull, brownish stains between those spikes, like splatters of something that had dried up a long time ago.  
  
He remembered what Trainer Girl had said about this Gym Leader being a Berserker. His blood boiled.  
  
“And Gym Leader Alexa brings out her Pinsir!” crowed the announcer, which earned a roar from the crowd, loud and unruly, like a wave of noise had crashed down on them. Quite annoying, really. “What will be the challenger’s counter?”  
  
Trainer Girl clucked her tongue. “Pinsir first, huh? Okay, well then—”  
  
The crowd’s screams were grating on his nerves. Tanner couldn’t hold back any longer.  
  
“Dibs!” he exploded, spreading his wings out, “Dibs! Dibs dibs dibs!”  
  
Tanner’s old master would have ignored the request—but this was not Tanner’s old master. Trainer Girl turned to him with eyes like tempered steel, dark and probing and analytic. “You really want to go first?”  
  
The Pidgey eyed the Bug and remembered how he almost succumbed to Poison all those months ago, and thought about ripping that Pinsir apart because who knew how many countless innocents it had killed... Fuck yeah he wanted to go first. Nay, he  _needed_  to—nay,  _deserved_  to—go first.  
  
“Fuck yes!”  
  
“ **You’re fighting?** ” the kid gasped, in wild tongue as per usual. Wasn’t old enough to understand Common.  
  
Tanner turned to him and nodded gravely. “ **We’re all gonna be fighting, at some point**.”  
  
The kid shivered. “ **O-Oh...** ”  
  
The fox cast them a concerned look with large amber eyes that darted between them, unable to comprehend the wild tongue. Fucking privileged starter—granted, not that it was the fox’s fault. No one could help the way they were born and… what was he saying? Oh, right, Gym battle. Focus, Tanner, focus.  
  
Trainer Girl eyed Tanner in a contemplative fashion, seemingly weighing her actions—then she gave a single, sharp nod that might’ve been either acknowledgement or approval. “Okay. Get out there and wreck shit.”  
  
“With pleasure!” Tanner’s heart soared as he took to the sky.  
  
The announcer’s voice boomed. “Challenger Celestine brings out one of her two Pidgey! Well, ladies and gentlemen, won’t this be an exciting match?”

* * *

There was a commotion and a few hastily apologies to be heard from the upper aisles. Mint briefly tore her eyes away from the field just in time to see Hayami leap onto the armrest of seat next to Shauna. Alistair landed on the other armrest, then paused to primp his feathers with his beak, the vain bastard. Both, however, had a sort of anxiety carved into their posture, one that made Hayami grip the armrest tighter than necessary and Alistair pause frequently to eye the field.  
  
Their Trainer followed after, his hair lightly mussed, eyes wide and dark and glittering with apprehension. He took quick stock of Mint and her company, nodded once as if in satisfaction, then visibly collapsed into the chair next to Shauna. Mint thought it was a miracle the seat didn’t break, but it did creak in protest.  
  
“What did I miss?” Calem asked urgently. All around, there were restless murmurs, anxious whispers, people bristling with excitement and anticipation, the barbaric bastards. Mint wondered if there were a few masochists in the crowd that enjoyed this shit.  
  
“Nothing,” Serena answered, eyes dark and serious. Her hands were steepled, her chin hovering just above her fingers. The guy behind her was waving his fist emphatically with a battle cry in his throat. “It literally just started.”  
  
“Good.” He gave a single, sharp nod, and his gaze immediately transferred to the field.  
  
The Pinsir was stationary, bristling but inert. They had managed to score seats close enough to the action that they didn’t have to crane their necks or squint, or anything of the sort. At the same time, it wasn’t so close that they ran the risk of errant bloody body parts whacking you in the face (though tragic as that might be, it would definitely be entertaining to watch). There were some people in that area, though, and they all looked so eager, so excited, like they couldn’t wait for limbs to start flying.  
  
_These are **people**. Goddess._  
  
Tension crackled and thickened around these five people all sitting in this row, a storm that just kept building and building and building with each passing moment. Mint swallowed, feeling the prelude of thunderclaps in the air, the prelude of a storm breaking. Any minute now, there would be a hurricane of raging winds and stinging rain and lightning flashes. This was going to be a battle of wills, of Transcendence—an abuser versus an Aesith.  
  
“I still can’t believe she’s Aesith,” Shauna breathed. And neither could Mint, but honestly, in hindsight,  _it made sense_. The prickly attitude, the reckless behavior, the sudden investment in this battle...  
  
Trevor’s eyes, wide and mercury-colored, flickered over to her. “You cannot tell her I told you, or that you even know, got it?”  
  
“Yeah, yeah, yeah, whatever.” Shauna’s hands were trembling despite her exasperated tone. Her gaze trailed up to Tanner, who was soaring around in lazy circles over the battlefield.

On the ground, the Pinsir began to move. The lady in red touched her neck. People roared and screamed themselves hoarse.  
  
Calem’s expression frosted over. “It’s starting.”  
  
The air became as thick as cement, then shuddered, and Mint felt the storm break.

* * *

It was like a curtain had been pulled—no, it was like the curtain had come loose and collapsed onto the ground in countless velveteen folds. One minute, it was a horned beetle, and the next it was a horned beetle  **with wings**.  
  
Trainer Girl’s presence was suddenly in his head, and that was when the curtain fell. The spines on its horns lengthened and curved, its eyes turning a phosphorescent yellow color. On its back, the shell split and swung out to reveal a pair of translucent yellow wings veined by bright, bulging orange. One minute it was standing on the ground, the other it was hovering in the air.  
  
Huh.  
  
It took to the air after him.  
  
The crowd yelled, but they didn’t see.  
  
Tanner banked right to avoid narrowly being impaled by those massive horns, and it whizzed past at an impressive speed, racing skyward without any restraint or proficiency at all. Normally, it might have been a blur of motion, but his eyes caught every movement, made time slowing down so that he could catch every beat of wings that shouldn’t be there.  
  
Somewhere in the back of Tanner’s mind, he knew he should be unnerved by the whole transformation into some ungodly beast. But he felt Trainer Girl’s aura thrumming through every centimeter of his body, felt his muscles itch and throb with latent power. He was drunk on this surge of power that sent an exquisite ache through every nerve.  
  
He feared  _nothing_.  
  
_Is this what you were talking about, girly?_  he almost laughed, dizzy and intoxicated.  _The “Ascended Form” or some shit like that? Heh. Doesn’t **look**  too scary!_  
  
An exasperated sigh echoed in his mind as the Bug—Pinsir—narrowly slowed down in time to keep from ramming into the wall.  _Thing was pretty dumb, wasn’t it? Focus, dammit. That thing can fly at thirty mph.  
  
Only thirty?_  Tanner frowned as the Pinsir swerved midair and aimed its horns at him, pincers snapping as if anticipating the feel of flesh and bone ripping.  _That doesn’t **sound**  like a lot—  
  
Move you shitbird!_  
  
It only took a single flap to propel Tanner about two metres out of the Pisnir’s path. Now that was damn impressive. Nothing could fucking  _touch_  him!  
  
Tanner. The urgency in Trainer Girl’s thought-voice broke his reverie, sharp like the slash of a sword.  _For Bird’s sake, fucking **pay attention**!_  
  
Okay, but, he  _was_  paying attention, so she had  _no right_  to complain—  
  
He felt a jolt of urgency that wasn’t his.  _Dodge with Quick Attack, and **hurry**._  
  
Tanner knew better than to question it, especially in the middle of a battle when every moment counted. His wings buzzed, muscles aching with power. That power propelled him forward and left a glowing trail in his wake. The speed alone would have left an opponent dizzy, but it also saved his life—not a moment later, the mutant Pinsir’s horns closed around his afterimage. There was a sickening crack as the horns collided, one with enough force behind it to shatter bones and tear up muscle and sinew with startling ease.  
  
Fucking close call of all close calls.  
  
And the crowd? They went fucking bananas.  
  
The Pinsir’s back was turned, and Tanner had a perfect aim of the place where its wings attached to its body. He’d seen a Pidgeotto completely stun a Beedrill by hitting it in that spot, because there was apparently a very vital bundle of nerves there, so he figured it might elicit the same response from the massive Bug. Being the amazing bird he was, he swerved around in the bat of an eyelid and slammed his full weight into it.  
  
Momentum helped.  
  
And speed.  _Definitely_  speed.  
  
Hell, he was the fucking king of speed and you were all his subjects. Bow down, bitches.  
  
People cheered. For the right side this time.  
  
The Pinsir let out an awful, ear-splitting wail, one so sharp and piercing that Tanner had to back away lest his eardrums burst. Its whole body seized up, and gravity took hold of it, bringing it down, down, down.  
  
A rush of self-satisfaction filled Tanner’s chest. Was it always this easy? He’d never faced a Pinsir before, but he’d figured something so big and hulking would put up more of a  _fucking fight_. Especially considering it grew wings and was supposedly responsible for a lot of death and destruction and shit. Like, the thing was supposed to be deadly and shit, but he’d beaten it  _so easily_ —  
  
_Tanner._  The command was sharpened by urgency.  _Tanner, get the fuck out of there._  
  
He barely had time to process her alarm when blinding, white-hot pain shot through his left wing. A screech erupted from him, wings failing him, brilliant light bursting behind his eyelids. His vision blurred with pain, and he felt his wings failing him—the ground was getting closer, and he saw a fuzzy brown silhouette with blurred, fast-pumping wings rushing up to meet him. As it got closer, he could make out arching, crescent shapes of horns, outstretched arms and claws glowing with a sickly green color—  
  
Oh. Shit. Fucking  _shit_.  
  
A rush of adrenaline electrified his nerves and snapped his vision back into focus. Those were definitely the mutant-Pinsir’s pitiless yellow eyes he was seeing, its massive horns that were rapidly approaching.  
  
He forced his wings to pump and managed to propel himself out of the way just as a burning neon-green cross soared through the air. The Pinsir followed soon after, soaring past in a blind charge.  
  
Time slowed.  
  
The Pinsir’s carapace shimmered in the stage lights. Its wings were iridescent, glittering with an unnatural luster, one that was reminiscent of the glow Trainer Girl’s eyes required while she was Transcending.  
  
Its eyes were glazed, blank—there was nothing there, no awareness or consciousness, no nothing. It was unnerving as fuck and Tanner wondered how the hell he’d missed that. He also wondered what the hell had happened to it that had sucked the life out of it, left it an empty husk.  
  
And most of all—his wing really, really,  _really fucking hurt_.  
  
Time sped up again. The Pinsir’s velocity had caused a disturbance in the air pressure and a whoosh of dislodged air sent Tanner tumbling. He flapped his wings desperately in an attempt to right himself, and only just managed to do so before he went splat on the ground.  
  
The dusty field was dizzyingly close. Tanner refused to look at it as he ascended back into the sky.  
  
His wing was killing him.  
  
_Are you okay?_  Trainer Girl’s not-voice was strained, like she too was in some sort of pain. Maybe there was an empathic link or some shit like that. Who knew.  
  
Tanner swore his beak was going to crack from how hard he was gritting it. His eyes watered, but he blinked it away fiercely, pain dulled by an overwhelming rush of anger.  
  
_Seriously, Tanner, talk to me. Are you okay?_  
  
_I will I tear that thing to fucking pieces and scatter its remains all over the forest, burn the forest to the fucking ground, laugh like a fucking cartoon supervillain, and make a snowman out of the fucking ashes. You hear me? A fucking **snowman**!_  
  
_...okay then. Ohshi— **move**._  
  
A humming filled the air. The beat of Bug wings.  
  
_Move move move move._  
  
Tanner swerved to avoid the strike. Instead, the X-Scissor slammed into the floor and kicked up a vast cloud of dust, carved furrows into the field. He only had a moment to process what had just happened before the cloud engulfed him, his vision swallowed by tan.  
  
“Oh son of a bitch,” he hissed, screwing his eyes up. The sand made his eyes water and itch and ache. It was just an endless, swirling mess of brown, brown, brown everywhere he dared to look. North, south, east, west—and yes, he did have a faint sense of direction, every Pidgey at any given time could tell north from south, but the problem was finding the way  _out_.  
  
_Just stay calm_ , Trainer Girl was saying in a tone that might have been intended as placating.  _Use every last one of your senses, not just sight._  
  
No change in the cloud, no shift in the dust motes, no discernable shapes or movement he could make out. The fucking thing could be right in front of his face, ready to tear his head off, and he’d never even know it.  _Gee, thanks.  
  
I’m serious._  Her not-voice was sharp, militant.  _You’ll hear the buzzing of its wings before you see it, so if you hear anything, **move away from it**.  
  
Do I look stupid?  
  
...is that trick question?_  
  
He tuned her out after that.  
  
It was no good—he couldn’t see. And he could hear something, but that something was the crowd and it was full of violent, disappointed protests, demanding violence and bloodshed and more of the stupid Pidgey’s blood to stain the ground—  
  
Oh.  _Oh_ , they were talking about  _him_.  
  
Bastards.  
  
Brown, brown everywhere, and not an exit to fly through. He tuned into Trainer Girl’s presence again, not because he thought he needed it, but because he had a pathological intolerance of silence.  _Any more gems of advice?_  
  
Pensiveness tickled at the back of his skull.  _Which way are you going now?  
  
Uh, right. Why?_  
  
He got the distinct impression that she was furrowing her brows.  _Right straight? As in, horizontally-straight?  
  
Yeah..._  What was the problem with that?  
  
_When you can **fly**_ , she deadpanned.  
  
This was starting to get annoying.  _If you have somethin’a say, girly, just say it.  
  
You can fly, dumbass. Trying going  **up**._  
  
Oh.  
  
That made sense. Why didn’t he think of that?  
  
Tanner headed straight up.  
  
The cloud started to thin as he climbed higher. Trainer Girl had been right—the cloud clung thickly to the ground, but it didn’t reach too far upward. Gravity was already starting to drag the errant dust back down where it belonged. So long as he just went up, he’d get a clear view in no time.  
  
Tanner heard buzzing. The kind of buzzing that came from Bug wings. And it was loud, coming closer, closer, closer—  
  
Trainer Girl’s alarm shot through Tanner.  _Get out of there._  
  
Tanner didn’t need to be told twice. He banked left just as the dust and air ripped and an X-Scissor missed him by a margin. The Pinsir mutant emerged from behind it with sickly-green glowing claws and blazing eyes.  
  
Again, time slowed. And Tanner made the mistake of thinking it was going to overshoot him again, and he was safe.  
  
Then the Pinsir’s glowing claws changed to a pinkish purply shade and it struck.  
  
The first blow struck Tanner right across the face, forcing his head to the side so sharply it sent a twinge of pain down his spine. His little skull rang like a gong from the impact and he saw stars—big red ones—bright and dancing. It sent the world spiraling wildly on its axis like a sputtering, faltering top that had been spinning too long and was finally losing momentum. He heard roars, blood-thirsty roars, human voice screaming, drunk on violence. Had the crowd always been there? Had he only just now noticed?  
  
Everything went double. There were suddenly two mutant-Pinsir when he looked back, two purple-glowing claws reeling back to strike him again. Air whirled around the claw, like a vortex, a whirlwind, which  _didn’t make sense_ , nothing about this was making sense—  
  
On instinct, he gathered air around his wings and cast a Gust.  
  
The attack tore into the Pinsir’s carapace, sent fissures through the shell and spurts of slimy, milky-green Bug goo flying through the air. Some of it splattered on his chest and wings. It felt surprisingly cold, like being splashed with frozen rain.  
  
The sheer force of his own attack propelled Tanner backwards and tumbling above the bleachers. His head was still ringing like a fucking gong, like a chorus of cannons had gone off in his head, and the bloodthirsty roar of patrons did him no favors. He pumped his wings in a desperate attempt to stay airborne, right himself, something, anything—the sharp throbbing in his left wing returned, screaming for attention. Everything was upside-down and spinning and all the colors were way too harsh, but the edges of his vision blurred horrendously, stars still bright and dancing.  
  
Tanner groaned.  
  
_Damn that was close._  Trainer Girl was bristling with worry, which didn’t make sense, because Normal moves shouldn’t do that much damage. Normal moves didn’t swirl with wind and air like that.  _Are you okay?_  
  
No. He wasn’t. He was pretty sure this was what roadkill felt like. Specifically the kind of roadkill that was hit by a turbo-powered bus.  
  
_I’m guessing that’s a “no”._  A sigh, slow and heavy.  _Hurry back onto the field. If you linger too long, the announcer might declare you out of bounds.  
  
Fuck him and his bounds_ , he protested weakly, but reluctantly did as asked. He shook his head to make the dizziness abate, but it only worsened. His flight path was almost drunken as he struggled to fly straight, hobbling back to the field.  
  
A second sigh, but it was more gentle than harsh.  _Hang in there. You took some damage, but your last attack hit it pretty hard too. If you can land another hit like that, you can definitely win._

* * *

Alistair watched, a trickle of apprehension running down his spine, as the Pidgey flew shakily back to the battlefield. He tried to bury it by preening his feathers, but he could only preen his feathers so many times before he got them just right and couldn’t touch them again without messing them up. And once he’d reached that state of perfection, there was nothing to distract him from the fact that the last attack had hit the Pidgey hard and, oh, yeah, he was definitely struggling.  
  
“How did Tanner get hit from the  _sky_?” Mint whispered, voice low and hushed like she was afraid to speak over the crowd. She sounded scared—the sort of scared that makes you too stiff, your voice too steady, too flat. “That thing was nowhere  _near_  him.”  
  
From the other armrest, Hayami tried to catch Alistair’s eye with a knowing expression, and he pretended to ignore her because he still had to work on his feathers. They both already knew that Transcendence wasn’t something you could understand with your eyes. Not unless you were an Aesith or a Piercer or something. And they weren’t, so it was that simple. There was no point in watching this match because it was all twisted up by the damned Veil. Alistair had observed the Pinsir launch a Double Hit into the sky while standing stationary on the ground, but that obviously wasn’t what happened. Firstly, Double Hit was a physical, close-quarters attack and it took lots of training to pull off something like that (Alexa, according to rumor, lacked a proficiency for battle, so that wasn’t likely), and secondly, even if it was launched, it wouldn’t have landed as hard as it had. The Veil had screwed with the events, warped the presumably outlandish so that it could fit into the observer’s personal definition of plausibility, so even then, someone else might have observed a totally different event. Even knowing that the Veil was there and screwing with you didn’t help—you just didn’t fight the Veil.  
  
“Because Pidgey has returned to the boundaries,” the announcer’s voice droned in sickly sweet tone of mock excitement, “the match will continue and no one will be disqualified.”  
  
Elated cheers rose from the audience. Tch. Bloodthirsty beasts. Why the hell was Alistair being forced to tolerate the presence of these wanton barbarians again, watching a fight he could not see? Oh, right, his Trainer wanted him to  _show support_.  
  
Ugh.  
  
“Nothing’s making sense.” The subpar dancer known as Tierno spoke in a quiet way, mouth set into a thin, worried line. “That Pinsir’s movements are all weird...”  
  
Serena looked up sharply. “Is she Transcending already?”  
  
Of course she was. A Pinsir couldn’t launch a Double Hit from that great a distance and injure a Pidgey that way. It had to have been close range. But, to be fair, Serena was probably thinking that this Dupuis bitch would save Transcendence for the third and final round, not go straight off the bat. On the other hand, Berserkers started off strong and tended to lack a sense of proportion, so Alistair, by contrast, was not surprised.  
  
And neither was his Trainer. Calem’s eyes were solemn and set in a grim expression. “Probably. That last hit had too much power behind it.”  
  
Alistair watched the flagging Pidgey as he circled the field again. The Pinsir on the field was bleeding badly, but remained eerily still, as though it was already an unmoving corpse. Beyond the subtle flickering and twitching of its form, there was no indication that Alistair could not trust his own eyes.  
  
And yet, he knew he couldn’t. No one could.

* * *

Trainer Girl’s assessment was, at the very least, a piece of good news and something that gave Tanner a little bit of hope, but he was still reeling from that last attack. His head  _ached_. He was lucky to have avoided that second hit...  
  
_The fuck did that hurt so much?_  He wasn’t expecting an answer, honestly. Just ranting, grumbling. Griping and bitching was the best way to get over a head injury. Probably. He’d never had a head injury before.  _Wasn’t that Double Hit? That’s a Normal move, right? Bugs aren’t good at that shit. The fuck did it hit so hard? My head hurts so fucking **much**._  
  
Tanner felt Trainer Girl wince and immediately know something was wrong.  _About that... So, y’know how it can fly?_  
  
A trickle of apprehension went through him. Oh, he was getting a bad, bad feeling about this.  _Yeah?_  
  
_Well, all its Normal-Type attacks become Flying-Type. And it’s gained a Flying Typing, so..._  
  
A bolt of alarm went through him, vision beginning to blur—from his injury or the shock, he couldn’t tell. His gaze slid onto the flagging Pinsir, struggling against the wound he’d inflicted it with, and he felt a numb horror creeping over him.  _The fuck, woman! You tell me this **now**?!_  
  
Another bolt of alarm—but this time it wasn’t his.  _We discuss this **after**  you dodge the incoming Guillotine._  
  
Tanner blinked rapidly. His vision snapped to focus without warning, and he could finally make out the incoming brown blur that was not the cloud, but actually the Pinsir that was rapidly approaching with gnashing horns. Was it his imagination, or were the horns bigger? Those horns definitely looked bigger. The spikes jutted out thorns, but they were fucking massive and—  
  
Oh. Shit. Shit shit shit.  
  
It flew with a drunken wobble, as though struggling beneath its own weight, but it was still wicked fast, wings blurring and the giant orange veins throbbing as though about to burst. A thick shell of white, crystalized-Aura had calcified around its horns, making them even sharper, even more massive, like blades that could sheer steel so cleanly, so precisely—fuck, imagine what it could do to a living thing.  
  
_Quick Attack_ , Trainer Girl commanded sharply. To his obvious alarm (at the thought of getting closer to those fucking bigass pincers), she added hastily,  _Use it to **dodge** , dumbass._  
  
Tanner didn’t hesitate. He poured Aura into his wings and slipped away just as the pincers snapped at empty air. The crack they made was loud and bone-chilling, and his neck prickled in apprehension, as if anticipating their bladed edges closing around him. He ended up at an angle that gave him a nice view of the hairline fracture he’d left on its back from the earlier Quick Attack.  
  
Trainer Girl’s presence sharpened, and Tanner could taste her alarm in the back of his throat (it was acidic, like bile or vomit or fear, but not as strong).  _Ohhhh, you need to get out there.  
  
Why, what—_  
  
The mutant Pinsir whirled around, giving Tanner a perfect view of the massive crack he’d carved into its abdomen, weeping milky-green goo. A trickle of concern went through him. That was a serious wound, the kind that would make Trainers run for the Center and would make wild Pokémon bow their head in desperate, fervent prayer to the Goddess for recovery.  
  
That thought vanished when the pincer-shell unlatched and shot towards him like it was rocket-propelled. Tanner squawked in alarm—Guillotine wasn’t supposed to  _fly_.  
  
_Quick Attack_ , Trainer Girl commanded briskly, sharply, voice spiking.  _Quick Attack, Quick Attack, Quick Attack—  
  
I got the message, merci!_  He was already tearing away, the airborne Guillotine hot in pursuit.  
  
He zigzagged—the Guillotine kept pace. Which was fucking insane because that move was supposed to have piss-poor accuracy.  
  
_Go go go!_  Trainer Girl’s not-voice was both grating and oddly comforting.  _Faster! It’s gaining! Stop zigzagging, dammit, you’re just slowing yourself down! Fly fucking straight!_  
  
Tanner bit back a scathing retort and flapped harder.  
  
_Wait a sec...  
_  
The panic had been leeched out of her voice, replaced by something that sounded a lot like a realization, and it made him furious. Some concern she had about his well-being!  _Anything you wanna share?!  
  
...try going down._  Her not-voice had acquired a contemplative tone, the kind that came with experimentation—and experimentation, in this case, resulted in dismemberment and beheading.  _See if it follows._  
  
He almost whirled around to Quick Attack her in the face.  _Are you **trying**  to kill me?!  
  
So far, you haven’t changed altitude, and it’s followed you steadily._ She had a calmness in her voice as she explained, and it unnerved him how casual she was being about all this.  _Maybe it can only pursue you so quickly on a horizontal level._  
  
This was so fucking exasperating they were no words, even if Tanner was the articulate type.  _You owe me **so**  many Puffs! _  
  
He tucked his wings down and dived—  
  
—just as the Guillotine snapped.  
  
It was an unconscious error, an inadvertent mistake. When Tanner and Trainer Girl had been conversing, he’d slowed down a little bit. Just enough for the distance between bird and Guillotine to lessen and, eventually, close.  
  
Time slowed. Tanner’s mind went blank.  
  
For the first time since he arrived on Route Two, Poisoned and delirious and on the brink of death, he felt fear. Genuine fear.

**_SHIIING!_ **

* * *

Mint squeezed her eyes shut. She couldn’t watch.  
  
The audience roared, drunk on blood and gore. She felt like she was going to be sick.  
  
“Oh my god.” Shauna’s voice trembled wildly. Mint could feel her hands shakings from where they gripped the armrest until her knuckles had turned white.  
  
“That...” Trevor’s voice. He took a deep, sharp breath that shivered as he exhaled. “...was fucking close.”

* * *

The good news—Tanner made it. The attack didn’t clamp onto anything vital and then dissipated into a gust of wind.  
  
The bad news—the tips of his tailfeathers ended up sheered off.  
  
Tanner was racked by simultaneous waves of relief and incredulity. He was alive... He was alive! He'd come  _so close_  to dying but  _he was alive_! He was breathing and his heart was pounding and his head was still on his neck and  _he was alive_.  
  
Trainer Girl gave a breath of relief, one that felt almost tactile inside his head.  _Thank the Birds._  
  
Yes, thank the Birds indeed. The Winged Mirages—the ones Tanner’s pépé used to talk about, eyes glinting with a sort of pride and reverence. Tanner wondered if any one of them had ever faced something like this, monsters borne of ancient magic that should have remained buried, if any of them had ever escaped death themselves by the tips of their tailfeathers.

He felt dizzy. A brown smudge lingered on the ground. The Pinsir—it had landed, likely to recover from the exertion. It stood, unmoving.  
  
But he also saw that woman—the one in red with tattered clothes and greasy hair, who had supposedly been responsible for putting a good woman in the hospital. She had ordered her monsters to tear into innocents, had slaughtered mercilessly, had no remorse for the weak.  
  
She was wearing red.  
  
Tanner had a flashback—a few months back, before the orange-suited men swept the Route, a young Bunnelby had gone missing. Nice girl, sweet girl. Shared her berry finds with everyone. She had liked Tanner, and he was okay with her. He wasn’t sure why, but for some reason she got it into her fluffy head to pay le Bois Sombre a visit, which, damn, was plain fucking stupid because even half-brained chicks knew better than to enter the Dark Woods on Route One. The Pokémon there only lived there because they found life on the regular Routes too soft, desiring strength but refusing to acknowledge cooperation with humans as the best way to reach it. They were the kind that wanted strength but in the bad way, the worst ways, and so you really shouldn’t wander in too deep, or at all if you can help it.  
  
Nice girl, sweet girl. She wandered in. Tanner, in a fit of courage he could never for the life of him understand, went after her. He found her at the claws of a great predatory bird, feathers glowing flame red in the shadow and blood splattered like war paint over its ash-grey stomach. Her life pooled wastefully beneath her body.  
  
He’d run, the coward that he was, and never saw either again. But this woman—she wore the same sort of red as that Talonflame that day, and had the same sadism he had seen in those dark, pitiless eyes. She was a juggler throwing balls made of fine glass into the air, but she was sloppy and didn’t care if they shattered at her feet into a million glittering pieces, even laughed at the disgusting wastefulness of a life cut short.  
  
Rage flooded Tanner. His wing ached, he had sand in his eyes, his head throbbed, he was splattered liberally with Bug goo, he had spent the last ten minutes flying around in circles just to keep his head on his shoulders, and now his tailfeathers were clipped. All on the whims of some chick on a power trip.  
  
No one had to die today. No one had to—until she made it so.  
  
_Oi, girly._  Tanner’s blood was boiling.  _I want to finish this._  
  
Trainer Girl’s presence was like a steel hug. It was tight and restrictive, not particularly warm or gentle, but it was strong, unyielding, comforting in the way it bound him.  _Me too._  
  
Tanner started flying closer, but the Pinsir didn’t move. His vision was tinging red around the edges and he didn’t care.  _Well?_  
  
A considering pause, then— _Quick Attack. Catch it off-guard. Then hit it with Gust.  
  
Roger._  
  
He swooped. A single wingbeat and then he was zooming towards it. He struck it dead in the back that was turned towards him (stupid mistake), right where he had before.  
  
The shell cracked and spurted goo, but Tanner ricocheted and zoomed to safe distance before it could strike. Only when he was far enough away did he stop to observe his work—the Pinsir was stunned, its horns splayed out, leaving its head wide open.  
  
Tanner did not think.  
  
The Gust that he unleashed may have been condensed. It may not have, but he didn’t know, and he didn’t care. Time slowed and he watched with a twisted satisfaction as the ripple of wind tore its way towards the Bug—  
  
—and then he saw something he’d missed before.  
  
Its wings were gone. There was no trace of those translucent, orange-veined things that had allowed the Bug to plague him in the air. Its horns had shrunk, too, back to their regular still-sharp-but-significantly-less-threatening state. The feet, too, had transformed from the jet-like smoothness to regular, land-walking feet.  
  
But most of all, the blank florescent eyes had changed to wide white ones that were alive and aware and not at all empty.  
  
Tanner wasn’t sure when it had turned around. But he had a perfect view as those not-empty eyes flooded with the same genuine fear he had experience only moments ago.  
And then the Gust struck.  
  
Its shell cracked and exploded, the force cleaving deep, deep, deep into its body, right down the middle. Silvery-green goo erupting like a volcano from the fissure, and his beak must have fallen open, because some of it flew into his mouth. He watched as the Bug’s eyes turning dim and glassy and empty, like a light had suddenly gone out—the kind of light you never notice is even there until it’s not anymore.  
  
There was silence.  
  
Its body creaked, then, in an almost unnatural but almost deliberate slowness, fell back against the ground. Mucus-colored goo and innards spilled out from the fissure all over the parched, dusty ground. Some of it dripped into the cracks that had been carved by the earlier X-Scissor. The stage lights beat down on the fractured carapace, harsh and relentless.  
  
Tanner was trembling. The goo smelled foul and he thought he might have gotten some in his mouth somehow. He felt sick.  
  
The blood shed today was not red, but green.  
  
The announcer raised a flag. “Pinsir is dead! The first round goes to the challenger—Celestine Lavieaux!”  
  
Applause echoed from the stands, roaring, deafening. A surge of fury went through Tanner, his wings trembling, goo—blood,  _blood_ —still in his mouth.  
  
No one had to have died today.  
  
Alexa reached for another Ball clipped to her belt.

* * *

Big Bro wasn’t flying straight when he came back. His wing was all stiff and there was yucky goo on his feathers. He looked really tired, too. Max wondered if he was alright. He’d fought the big Bug but the big Bug hadn’t even moved, and now it was sleeping on the ground (Max thought you shouldn’t take a nap in the middle of a battle, silly Bug), but Big Bro looked like he’d gotten hurt bad.  
  
M. Delphi came up to the white line, but stopped when Big Bro landed—and didn’t cross. His ears were flat and his tail was all poufy. “Are you okay, Tanner? You look terrible.”  
  
“M’fine,” Big Bro muttered. He shook himself out, but the green yucky stuff still stuck to his feathers. “Done for the day. Switch?”  
  
Missy nodded, then looked at him. Her face was so serious. “Max? You ready?”  
  
Max perked up at the sound of his name. He almost asked for what—but then he remembered that Big Bro said they all had to fight. A shiver went through him, but Max ruffled his feathers and took a deep breath. His heart pounded, his feet felt cold. He was ready. He was ready.  
  
“ **I-I’m r-r-ready.** ”  
  
That... came out wrong.  
  
Missy didn’t understand wild tongue. Neither did M. Delphi. They were kind of dumb for adults in that way. But Missy understood well enough and she nodded again. Her eyes glowed blue, and Max’s head felt funny, like he wasn’t alone in there anymore. He didn’t like it and it was scary, his little heart pounding, but M. Delphi and Big Bro said not to be scared, so Max tried not to be scared.  
  
He gulped turned to the field, spreading his wings to fly onto it and fight when—  
  
The pale lady released another big Bug. This one was dark blue and it had only one horn, one that was long and sharp-looking, like it was made to skewer little birds. A rush of fresh fear went through Max and he wanted to duck behind Missy’s legs because he swore it was  _glaring_  at him. But Missy gave him a push from inside his head, and he tried not to be scared.  
  
The lady touched her neck and Max saw light. Then the big Bug did something really weird—it changed.  
  
Its horn curved the other way, getting bigger and sharper, and it grew another one from its nose of all places. It grew, grew and grew until it was so much bigger, until it could flatten Max easily. Orange flared all overs its blue shell, bright and bloody-colored and Max whimpered, because now it was really, really big and those orange lines looked like they were throbbing in a really gross way and its yellow eyes most definitely glaring now, oh yes, Max could feel them against his feathers. Its arms and legs got thicker, too. A lot thicker, bulging as though ready to burst, and before it had looked kinda friendly but now it looked big and scary and like it would hurt Max if it was given the chance.  
  
It started to lumber forward. The lady pounded her fists together excitedly, and the Bug did the same. Only, when the Bug did it, he felt it, like he was being ground to a pulp even from this far away, and Max didn’t want to fight already but he definitely didn’t want to fight that it was getting closer—  
  
The Bug stepped on the other, sleeping Bug, and the sleeping Bug broke and goo came out.  
  
Max screamed and tried to fly back into the tunnel.  
  
“Whoa, hey!” Missy yelled, and M. Delphi caught Max. Max struggled and thrashed but M. Delphi wouldn’t let go and he looked at Missy in confusion, but when Max looked back at Missy, Missy looked mad. “Where are you  _going_? Look, it’s a Bug-Fighting-Type. Your Gust is more than enough to—”  
  
“ **No!** ” Max shrieked. “ **No no no no it’s a monster I don’t wanna fight it’s a monster and it’s gonna hurt and its gonna squash me like the brown Bug and I don’t wanna I don’t wanna _I don’t wanna fight_ —**”  
  
“Y-You’ll be fine,” Missy tried to say, shocked and confused, but Max didn’t hear her.  
  
He struggled. He thrashed. The big blue Bug was scary and it wasn’t a Bug, Bugs couldn’t be that big and scary and he was scared he didn’t want to it was a monster and he didn’t wanna fight a monster Missy  _make the monsters go away_ —  
  
His head shrank. Suddenly, he was alone in it again, and the blue Bug looked like it had before it changed. He stopped struggling and looked back at Missy in confusion. Her fingers pinched her nose and her eyes were closed, her brows furrowed and Max almost asked when she got hurt because she looked pained.  
  
“The hell am I  _doing_?” she muttered, voice soft and harsh and trembling. It sounded like she was going to cry, and that made Max worried because adults weren’t supposed to cry. She let go of her nose and looked at Big Bro, who was still on the field and eyeing Max in concern. “Tanner, I... hate to ask this, but do you think you can last another round?”  
  
Big Bro shuffled nervously, but then he looked at Max, and he nodded. In human, he said, “Yeah... Yeah, I think so.”  
  
M. Delphi set Max down. “Trainer, I can go now instead—”  
  
“No,” Missy interrupted. “No, you need to save your strength for the last one. I can’t switch you in mid-round and once you’re out, I can’t put you back in. Alexa still hasn’t brought out her ace, either, and you can’t fight it unless you’re in peak condition. If Max won’t fight, then Tanner has to. Understand?”  
  
M. Delphi’s ears flattened again, and he nodded, but he looked at the ground as he did and didn’t say anything.  
  
“Put the kid back in the Ball,” Big Bro said. Then, to Max, he said in wild tongue, “ **Don’t worry, kiddo. You don’t hafta fight now. There’ll be no more monsters, okay?** ”  
  
Max nodded shakily. “ **O-Okay.** ”  
  
He saw Big Bro spread his wings and turn to the once-monster Bug, and then there was red light.

* * *

“What’s the matter Lavieaux?” Alexa crowed, sardonic and mocking and far too loud. Tanner wanted to Wing Attack her across the face, but he didn’t know that move yet. “Your reserve bird not good enough?”  
  
He bit back the stinging retort he could feel bubbling up in his throat, and could also feel Trainer Girl’s rush of indignation. He could see the blue Bug that had freaked the kid out—it was a bulky thing, limbs bulging with what would have been muscle if it weren’t a Bug, carapace streaked by orange and yellow splashed on its back. Bright colors, in the wild, were meant to be intimidating. Tanner wondered if that was what they were meant for in this case, because they looked very out of place otherwise.  
  
_That’s a Heracross_ , Trainer Girl informed him. Again, her not-voice had acquired that wartime quality, the kind reminiscent of a general on the cusp of a battle, running strategies with their troops.  _Bug-Fighting-Type, as I said before. Your Gust’ll tear it to pieces._  
  
Finally! Some good news! Honestly, he was in desperate need of a moral booster and he wanted this done and over with so he could not think about the Pinsir cadaver still lying there as it prove how sucky the clean-up services here were.  _Plus, it can’t fly.  
  
Yeah... About that—_  
  
The yellow shell on its back peeled away, revealing a pair of translucent, silvery wings. They started to pump, blurring together and releasing a low, droning buzz.  
  
“Are you  _shitting_  me,” he grumbled as it took to the air.  
  
_Don’t worry—it can’t fly as well as the Pinsir. It’ll be on the ground again in a few minutes._  
  
Tanner wanted to protest that “a few minutes” could translate to “the entire battle”, but the Heracross’s horns suddenly flared with sickly green light. A crackling pulse manifesting between the two horns, spikes jutting out from the coalescing orb.  
  
The spikes fired.  
  
_Quick Attack to dodge_ , Trainer Girl commanded. There was a hint of urgency in her voice, but only a hint. He could practically  _feel_  her flinty expression boring holes into his skull.  _That thing has Skill Link, so it’ll be firing no less than five rounds. Stay vigilant and don’t drop your guard._  
  
He did as commanded without question. Quick Attack helped him dodge a volley of thin, needle-like projectiles that soared passed. They looked measly as fuck and he couldn’t figure out how something that insubstantial-looking could ever hurt anybody unless they weren’t a newborn Caterpie, but hey, his wing was already torn and what the shit, let’s not get anymore blood on his feathers.  
  
_Dive!_  
  
Tanner dove just as another volley soared overhead. Not good at flying his feathered ass. This thing was faster than the Pinsir and attacked from a distance so—  
  
_Tanner! Fucking **pay attention**!_  
  
—he banked right just as a huge flurry whizzed passed, thrice the size of the last two valleys, like three rounds had been condensed into a single, dense cloud of projectiles.  
  
He wasn’t fast enough, though, and a few errant needles stabbed into his good wing. They were nowhere near as painful as the throbbing cut in his bad wing, but they stuck like a  _motherfucker,_  like papercuts dipped in lemon juice, and he yelped, his trajectory thrown.  
  
Oh  _fuck_.  
  
Tanner barely righted himself when the Heracross charged him from below, both horns glowing brilliant green and having lengthened considerably—  
  
and then stabbed him, right in the heart.  
  
The pain was unlike anything he’d experienced before. A white-hot bolt, excruciating and intense and piercing, alighting every nerve in an agonizing frenzy. He felt the point digging into his skin, his flesh being torn, blood gushing from the wound, and there was so much pain. His vision exploded with white and then—  
  
And then Tanner was falling. Wind screamed in his ears and he couldn’t hear anything. He thought he heard Trainer Girl screaming, shouting incoherent nonsense but maybe that was just his imagination. Or hey, it might be le Grande Faucheuse calling him from the other side. It wouldn’t be that much of a stretch if the Grim Reaper sounded just like Trainer Girl, the number of times she threatened him... Heh, he was going to miss that in the afterlife.  
  
So. This was what dying was like. Watching your blood spiral out in front of you as you fell in seemingly slow motion, like some guy was trying to add cheesy tension to an overly dramatic action scene and it just ended up looking shitty and cliché. Tanner was watching the blood stream upward—hey, he was bleeding upward, that’s one for the record books—as he fell, and the lights were fucking bright, they washed out everything but the vivid red color of his own blood and wow, every thought was just spiralling back to the fact that he was bleeding. Was that normal? Tanner felt like that was normal. Must be normal when you’re dying and all these thoughts are flying through your head and there’s no real way to filter them and everything is just sort of whirling around like an unhinged hurricane. That’s odd expression, “unhinged”, like, your mind doesn’t have hinges so why do they use that expression, “unhinged”? Hell, where do half the expressions used in the modern day come from? Really good question. ‘Cause half of it didn’t make  _any fucking sense_ —  
  
Tanner hit the ground hard. It fucking hurt.  
  
Everything fucking hurt. His wing and his chest and the droplets of blood that floated upwards came dripping back down like rain. One drop landed just next to his head. He glanced at it from the corner of his eye and, oh, hey, there’s the corpse of the Pinsir he killed like half a minute ago, hi there.  
  
He heard someone laughing. It might’ve been him. “Guess I’ll... join ya soon, eh?”  
  
Battling, Tanner decided as he lay cold and dying on the floor, was much more enjoyable from the sidelines. It sucked when you were the one actually fighting and dying on the field.  
  
The ringing in his ears abruptly vanished, replaced by Trainer Girl and the sound of ragged breathing, labored and heavy and straining. Her indignance was palpable, her voice rough and harsh and thick with the strain of someone holding back pain.  
  
_...fucking get up_ , she panted.  _That is a... fucking... shallow wound... you melodramatic asshole._

* * *

Delphi watched in horror as Trainer collapsed to her knees.  
  
She fell forward, collapsed like someone had shoved her, or had stepped on her, or that she’d lost her balance. At the very least, she thrust her hands out to catch herself before she landed face-first in the dust but she was panting hard, every muscle straining and trembling with some sort of imagined effort. One hand reached up to clutch at her chest, breathing coming out in broken shudders and gasps. Her bangs fell over her face, the harsh stage lights casting deep, dark shadows over her eyes.  
  
“T-Trainer!” Delphi felt like he should run over to check on her, but his feet were rooted to the spot and the best he could manage was to numbly reach a trembling paw in her direction.   
  
“A-Are you... what’s wrong—w-what happened—”  
  
“I’m— _fine_ ,” she gasped, but her voice spiked and splintered and slurred with intense pain. Her other hand, propping her up against the ground, curled into a fist, knuckles blanched white with the strain. She kept her head bowed and her hair cascaded down her shoulders like twin onyx waterfalls, pooling around her knees.  
  
He reached for his stick, both out of nerves and a nagging sensation that said he should be protecting her. “You don’t  _look_  fine.”  
  
She sucked in a shuddering breath and raised her head. The makeup she’d put on was lurid against the whiteness of her face, shiny with sweat and wrought with an intense pain. Her eyes blazed with ethereal light, brows furrowed deeply and teeth bared as if in a snarl. “I— _son of a bitch_ — Underestimated... how much that... was gonna  _hurt_. Fucking  _hell_ , fucking... fucking Mega Horn. Gene...sis  _almighty_.”  
  
That snapped him out of his stupor and his feet finally moved. He rushed over, crouching at her side and placed a paw on her back. He imagined he could feel every ache and pain going through her muscles and nerves from that one point of contact. Maybe he was imagining it. “What  _happened_?”  
  
The hand on her chest moved to clutch her head and she groaned. “Had to... take it myself...  _fuck_  Mega Horn...”

* * *

Tanner blinked, then peered at the wound in his chest. Trainer Girl was right. The wound was impossibly shallow, as though he’d merely been grazed instead of taking a direct hit. Still hurt like hell and made breathing a bitch, but the bleeding had also stopped. “I’m... alive?”  
  
Her labored panting answered him, and when he cast a glance back at her side, he saw her on her knees, struggling to stand and having to lean on the fox for support, seemingly radiating pain.  _You are so... fucking lucky you’re not... impaled right now... you’re fucking **welcome**._  
  
The realization that he was only still alive because of her made him absolutely dizzy. “You... saved me...?”   
  
_Absorbed the damage_ , she corrected, sounding as though she were speaking through clenched teeth. From the way she looked, staggering as she tried to stay on her feet, he wouldn’t be so surprised if she was.  _I’m Aesith. I’ve... got the virtue... take the pain without the—the physical damage— son of a **bitch** that... pain, ow, shit—don’t make me do that again._  
  
She  _saved_  him. A  _human_  saved him. A  _Trainer_  saved him.  
  
It was hard to explain, being hit by knowledge that was already apparent to you on some subconscious level, but being really hit by it like a Double Hit to the head. Tanner had always known that Trainer Girl was different from his old master—sure she was just as irritable and had a harsh accent just like him, but she at least pretended to care about him, if not actually care. But now, he realized it wasn’t her  _pretending_  to care at all, wasn’t her trying to manipulate him into fighting harder, doling out an aloof sort of affection and praise so as to string him along and manipulate into thinking  _hey, this is a Trainer who gives half a shit, I’m going to risk everything just to fight for her because she’s a commodity in this twisted world_.  
  
But this... was not a scheme. This was genuine. She had actually taken the hit,  _literally_ , just to  _keep him alive_ —the fucking woman was either insane or she actually gave more than just a half-shit. Maybe more than a whole shit.  
  
The woman  _saved_  him.  _Saved_  him. Took the hit, took the pain, to  _save_  him. She  _saved_  him. She wasn’t a Pokémon like the Pidgeotto that had found him on death’s door a year ago, but she  _still saved him_. A human  _saved_  him.  
  
Something like resolution hardened in his gut. He gritted his beak and staggered to his feet, turning back to his opponent. The field wavered and tipped drunkenly, his wings both aching (though his left wing had long since stopped bleeding, he wondered if that was also her influence), but the Heracross had landed to rest, eyes burning with intensity, still as a statue and bristling with anticipation. Hell, he could take. Definitely. Trainer Girl had saved him so that he could, and goddamn, he was going to.  
  
“You alright there, Lavieaux?” Alexa’s voice was taunting and ringing, sharp like a papercut. It was punctuated by a maniacal-sounding laugh. “You look like a ball of paper someone crumpled up to throw away!”  
  
“Fuck off!” Trainer Girl spat back. Tanner glanced back at her to see that she was struggling to her feet, the fox hovering at her side with obvious concern. “This in no way means I can’t kick your skinny ass all the way to Sinnoh!”  
  
Alexa raised a hand, her face seeming to break around her grin, and snapped her fingers. “We’ll see.”  
  
The Heracross took to the air again, its eyes flaring brilliantly.  
  
A sudden, irrational urge to peck out those eyes flared inside Tanner. He wanted to hear that thing scream in agony, wanted to rip its horns out and stuff them down its throat, wanted to shred its wings to ribbons.  
  
_Tanner...?_  
  
He didn’t hear. Red burned in his vision and he took to the sky—  
  
The mutant Heracross blinked out, vanished as though it had never been. The stage lights, however, were blinding white and how the hell did they get so close he was just on the ground—  
  
He dove just before he could hit them—but, whoa, the ground was spinning like a fucking top and he didn’t remember it being so red. Fuck, everything was red, why was it red, what was so goddamn special about the color red? Why couldn’t it be blue or yellow or—oh, never mind, there were spinning yellow polka dots everywhere, that solved the red problem but it didn’t quite answer—  
  
_T..._  
  
Something blue came rushing up, and this whole place was just a mess of primary colors wasn’t it? Hey, why were they called “primary colors” anyway? Like, where did that come from? And who decided to make ‘em those three? Oh, oh shit that blue thing was a  _Bug_ , and Tanner was pretty sure he didn’t like Bugs, but he wasn’t really sure why...  
  
_...anner...hear m...you liste..._  
  
The blue Bug raised its arm, hand blazing with a halo of white light and that was really disconcerting maybe he should move ‘cause it looked like it was going to hit him, yeah, he should definitely move—  
  
_...move!_  
  
He did, but man was the Bug  _slow_. It brought its arm down at the speed of dripping molasses and dove right to the ground, missing Tanner by a longshot because he was already several meters away and wowzers, red lady needed to train her Bugs better.  
  
_...angled Feet...boosts spee...thank the Ge..._  
  
The battlefield whirled like a hurricane on LSD. All spinning and bright colors and a storm of prismatic light, they should really fix the stage lights, the ground gyrating. Tanner’s head thrummed and he felt really dizzy, his skull felt like glue or something, all sticky and gooey and hey, who put the ground so close?  
  
Wait.  
  
The  _ground_. Holy  _shit_.  
  
Tanner swerved. He missed the ground by a margin. Heh, that was a funny word, “margin”. Sounded like “margarine”, y’know, the condiment? Hey, was that intentional?  
  
_...homing...irection...use..._  
  
“Irection”? Like “erection”? Tanner didn’t have an erection. And what was  _with_  this voice in his head, anyway? Like, it sounded like a girl, but with a weird accent, and she was speaking in Common. Human Common, that is, not wild tongue. He’d never met a human who could speak wild tongue but wouldn’t that be cool? But back to the girl in his head—she sounded really worried. Her voice was blotted out and he could only make out part of what she was saying, but her words were fast and the accent made them harder to understand and—  
  
_...oming...direc...hurry..._  
  
“Oming”? Like “homing”? Wait!  _Homing_! Every Pidgey had an internal homing ability. Well, all birds had the ability to sense magnetic fields and use it to plot migration courses, but most of them could only check to see if they were still going in the same direction. The Pidgey and Pidove lines had a far more acute sensitivity, and determine the actual direction, like north or south, even if they were crazy turned around. It was how they found their way home, no matter how far.  
  
Tanner closed his eyes and tapped into his internal compass. He had a little trouble at first, for some reason he had a bit of trouble at first. The crowd roared in his ears, the stage lights burned against his eyelids and turned the darkness bloody red, and there was an incessant buzzing, like Bug wings—  
  
But then it peeled away, like layers of an onion being sloughed off, or a snake shedding its skin. Slow at first, but then faster and faster until everything had fallen silent and dark. Then there was only him, and the earth, and the slow, subtle thump of its heart.  
  
The heartbeat gradually loudened. It was a lullaby that only he had the privilege of hearing, sweet and gentle, lyrical—north, south, east, west, repeat. A bright, rolling hum, smooth, unbroken, the magnetic field singing to him, north, south, east, and west, repeat—  
  
North—the bleachers to Trainer Girl’s right.  
  
South—the bleachers to Trainer Girl’s left.  
  
East—Alexa, the opponent, the enemy that must be defeated.  
  
West—Trainer Girl, and the fox.  
  
Buzzing. Bug wings.  
  
Tanner’s eyes snapped open. He swerved just as the mutant Heracross tried to come in for another Mega Horn. It missed—blurring past and hell, if the Pinsir hadn’t clipped his tailfeathers already that definitely would have.  
  
_It got **faster**._  He fought an incredulous laugh, his head clearing, and everything came back into focus. Man, it was good to think clearly again, but it also sucked because he remembered how embarrassingly loopey he'd been.  _The hell did it get **faster**?_  
  
_**It**  didn’t get faster_, replied a not-voice in his head. Trainer Girl, her voice tender with relief.  _ **You**  did. It hit you with Swagger and Tangled Feet kicked in. It was chasing you around the field with Brick Break, but luckily it couldn’t keep up... I—I couldn’t get through to you. I was— I was  **worried** , Tanner—_  
  
Another laugh bubbled up in his chest, but he clamped it down for her benefit.  _No need to worry, girly. I was just fine._  
  
He felt her snort and that fuzzy feeling of relief vanished.  _Why? Because you’re “king of the birds”?_  
  
_Well, **yeah**. Duh. But also ‘cause I heard you, and you helped me snap out of it, so, I owe you one._  Before she had a chance to reply, or to take advantage of his momentary show of gratitude (because he vowed to never be grateful to her ever again), he turned back to the Heracross. It touched down clumsily on the field, doubled over, panting heavily as though it had exerted itself a great deal. No way it could put a fight anymore.  _Wanna finished this?_  
  
The image of a smirk flashed in his mind.  _Thought you’d never asked._  
  
He smirked himself and dove. A single Gust should be more than enough to finish—  
  
Wait.  
  
The Heracross had shrunk, lost its bulk and became leaner, the orange and yellow vanishing from its navy carapace. Its horn had shrunken, too, and had acquired a spade-shaped tip that made the horn blunter and significantly less efficient, as though it were made for lifting instead of piercing. Exhaustion had settled into its honey-yellow eyes, body trembling as though its muscles were paying it back for some sort of intense abuse.  
  
And Alexa—she, too, was doubled over, breathing labored and her forehead slick with sweat. She was wheezing loudly, loud enough that Tanner could hear her from where he was, several yards away (admittedly, the advanced senses that came with Transcendence did help), and then she coughed, bringing a hand up to come her mouth. A glob of blood splattered on her etiolated palm, and she eyed with a scowl laced by pain, as though the sight of it was like a stab wound to the chest. She bared pink-stained teeth at the splatter as if in defiance and wiped on her pantleg.  
  
Tanner hesitated, bewildered and unsure how to proceed.  
  
Trainer Girl’s reassuring presence fluttered in the back of his skull.  _Gust. Now. You won’t get another chance._  
  
But he didn’t move.  _Hold on—the Heracross isn’t even Transcended anymore. Maybe—_  
  
_Tanner._  Her not-voice dropped to a very low, serious decibel, with an edge that demanded his attention. Not quite a whisper, but close enough to one.  _This is a **Reaper**  Battle. _ _ **Reaper**. It doesn’t end until one of you kills the other. There’s no way around it. Just... end it quickly._

The Heracross glanced up at him suddenly, eyes round. Fear flickered in those yellow depths and it hunkered down, plastering itself to the ground, the shell on its back twitching as though it were trying to start up its wings but they weren’t working.  
  
_It’s not fighting back—_  
  
_Only because Transcendence took a hell of a lot out of it_ , Trainer Girl retorted. There was something defensive in her tone, but at the same time also sad, an edge of something rueful and bitter.  _If Alexa were still Transcending with it, that thing wouldn’t hesitate to rip you apart._  
  
“ **Please** ,” the Heracross murmured in wild tongue. Its voice was feminine, trembling and frayed with panic.  
  
Tanner flashed back to the Pinsir from only moments before and something hard and indignant settled into his gut.  _So then why did she stop, if it could tear me apart?_  
  
A sigh, heavy and resigned. S _he can’t. Normal humans—Transcendence eats at their life energy. It’s honestly a miracle she’s been able to keep going like this as it is. I mean, **look**  at her. She's barely standing._  
  
“ **Please**.” The Heracross’s shell twitched and spasmed, then stilled. Her(?) eyes were wide, glistening with fear. “ **Please... please...** ”  
  
_She can’t maintain Transcendence for too long_ , Trainer Girl went on, a hint of something bitter bleeding into her tone while Tanner tried to avoid meeting those wide, fearful eyes and making this much harder.  _Apparently, Transcendence hasn’t overwritten her self-preservation instinct._  
  
That same bitterness caught in Tanner’s throat and calcified. He had the sudden urge to aim the next Gust at Alexa instead of the Bug, watch it tear a giant cut into her torso and bleed everywhere, guts and intestines spilling out.  _So what? She Transcends until she gets too tired and then leaves the Pokémon to **die**? Thanks, you were a great help, now bye-bye, have a nice day?  
  
...basically._  
  
“ **Please... kill me...** ”  
  
Tanner snapped back to the Heracross—she had her head bowed down, as though in resignation, and he stared, trying to process her words. “W-What?”  
  
“ **Kill me** ,” she repeated softly, voice thickening the way it does when you’re about to cry. “ **I-I’ve hurt so many... There’s so much blood on my claws... I-I c-can’t _stop_  myself...**” She took a sharp, shuddering breath, her whole body beginning to tremble. “ **Please, please—just finish me here. Please. I—I don’t want to _hurt_  anyone anymore.**”  
  
_Tanner._  Trainer Girl’s not-voice was consoling but firm.  _That Heracross has suffered a month of parasitic Transcendence. Her sanity is in ruins. She’s asking you to put her out of her misery._  
  
“But—”  
  
There was a bolt of sorrow, laced by resignation, and neither of it was his but it matched exactly how he felt.  _There’s no way to save her. I’m sorry. I hate having to ask you to do this but—there’s no other way. There’s no other way._  
  
“ ** _Please_...** ”  
  
Tanner sucked in a breath and closed his eyes. He couldn’t believe this. This was supposed to be an awesome triumph, not a fucking mercy kill for a Bug on her last scraps of sanity. This wasn’t how it was supposed to go. This wasn't...  
  
But Trainer Girl was right. Reaper Battles only ended one way. There was no way around it.  
  
_...dammit!_  
  
He gathered a Gust around his wings, one that was strong enough to care through flesh and bone with ease. One that would be clean and efficient and none too painful. The winds swirled and raged and protested their containment, and he tried not to think.  
  
He squeezed his eyes shut tighter as he cast it.  
  
There was a sickening crunch that made his stomach turn, punctuated by cheering from the crowd—loud, raucous roars, intoxicated by their own bloodlust. And it didn’t matter if the blood was red or green, so long as it spilled and flew everywhere. Tanner had never felt such disgust in humanity until that moment.  
  
He made the mistake of opening his eyes. Heracross had been cleaved clean down the middle, goo pooling between the two halves. Her face was flat against the floor, so he couldn’t see her expression, and he prayed to the Goddess that he never would.  
  
What had been the  _point_  of all of this, anyway?  
  
All the strength drained from his body at that moment, and all his other injuries throbbed at once in a single, staccato ache like a heartbeat. His stomach contents sloshed violently inside him—he felt dizzy and tired and ready to drop from the sky. It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t fucking fair.  
  
None of this was fucking  _fair_.  
  
_You didn’t fucking deserve this._  His gaze flickered to the Pinsir, its corpse still oozing on the other side of the field.  _Neither of you did._  
  
“Heracross is dead! The second round goes to the challenger—Celestine Lavieaux!” The announcer, boisterous despite the circumstance. “This is Lavieaux’s second victory! Will the Gym Leader be able to turn it around?”  
  
_No_ , Tanner thought, glancing back at the Gym Leader in question. She’d righted herself, though she was unsteady, looking so thin and frail that a stiff breeze might knock her over.  _No, she won’t. We won’t let her._

* * *

Claire’s heart hummed in her ears like a motor, claws digging into the fabric of Viola’s coat. They shouldn’t be here—they should not be here. The last time Viola was here, she had ended up with those ugly scars that marred her collarbone and a free trip to coma-land.  
  
But she’d snuck in again, and Claire had to give credit where credit was due, the woman was stubborn, and she seemed to care about Alexa way more than Alexa had ever cared about her. It was a really startling revelation, and made Claire almost feel a little guilty for writing Viola off—Viola was still the spoiled favorite, of course, but she seemed to have a good heart in her.  
  
She’d donned a heavy trench coat, one that hid her team as the rested on her belt, while a bowler hat hid her blonde locks and a pair of dark sunglasses shielded her green eyes from view. The lenses were large and bulbous, so she looked almost like one of the Bugs she trained.  
  
Claire hated those Bugs, and they in turn hated her. Ambrosia, sister to Alexa’s first victim (her twin brother, Virgil), seemed to make her dislike of Claire a personal thing, blamed her for allowed Alexa to grow so wild in the first place. Margot, Virgil’s friend and a newly-evolved Masquerain, was more reasonable in her judgement, but she still barely tolerated Claire. Claire, in turn, despised them both, because how was any of this her fault? She had tried to warn Alexa that the choker made her uneasy when Aliana first presented it, but Alexa hadn’t listened. And now—and  _now_ —  
  
Viola had been merciful enough to bring Claire along this time, which she was grateful for. She hadn’t seen Alexa since that fight they had that fateful rainy evening, after which Alexa had thrown her out onto the street and spat at her to never return.  
  
They slipped onto a vacant balcony, and Claire’s blood frosted over at the sight she beheld.  
  
Alexa looked terrible, there was no question about that. Pale and sickly, etiolated, like some warped caricature of her former self crossed with a skeleton. Claire had thought she couldn’t get any sicklier than when she’d last saw her, but evidently she’d been wrong. Her old owner looked ready to drop dead at any moment.  
  
There was a Heracross on the field, bowed and face down, probably on the edge of consciousness. And there was the wild bird, Tanner or something stupid, flying over the prone Bug, looking battered and worse for wear. Somewhere along one edge, a corpse lay, still and mucus-colored goo spilling out of it. She couldn’t make out what it had been, but she felt sick to her stomach at the sight.  
  
The bird blasted a Gust at the Heracross and tore in two. She looked away as the crowd cheered. It was too much. This was just  _too much_.  
  
Claire didn’t understand it—how did things get to this point? At first, Alexa had just wanted to prove that she could run the Gym better, and now...  _and now_...  
  
“Heracross is dead! The second round goes to the challenger—Celestine Lavieaux!” the announcer crowed in Common. Claire had always hated him—greasy, obsequious little man desperate to ride on the Gym Leader’s coattails. She didn’t bother to remember his name. “This is Lavieaux’s second victory! Will the Gym Leader be able to turn it around?”  
  
The roars from the crowd drifted up, and Claire felt sick. How did it come to this? How?  
  
She dared a glance back at the field. The dirty bird was being returned by the red retractor beam of a PokéBall that came all the way from the other side. She followed the beam with her eyes and found Delphi there, standing just before the white line that marked the boundaries and bristling with tension at the side of his moody Trainer.  
  
The moody girl put the Ball away and turned to Delphi, and he gingerly stepped onto the field.  
  
It was irrational and stupid and Claire condemned herself for it, but she found herself praying—not to the Goddess or any made-up religious idol. She never believed in religion and besides, if the myths were to be believed, the Reaper was the source of all this misery. Instead, she prayed to a tactile fox, real and alive, with the gentle eyes who promised her it would be alright.  
  
_Please_ , she begged silently, fervently.  _Please. Bring her back—bring my friend back. You’re the only one who can._

* * *

  **Mega Pinsir Moon Dex entry: Bathed in the energy of Mega Evolution, its wings become unusually developed. It flies at speeds of approximately 30 mph.**

\----

**Pidgey DPPt/BW/BW2 Dex entry: It is docile and prefers to avoid conflict. If disturbed, however, it can ferociously strike back.**

\----

**Mega Heracross UM Dex entry: A tremendous influx of energy builds it up, but when Mega Evolution ends, Heracross is bothered by terrible soreness in its muscles.**

\----

**Pidgey RSE/ORAS Dex entry: Pidgey has an extremely sharp sense of direction. It is capable of unerringly returning home to its nest, however far it may be removed from its familiar surroundings.**

* * *

**Current Team:**

_Delphi, Male Braixen (lv 15)_  
_Docile, Takes plenty of siestas_  
_Ability: Blaze_  
_Moves: Scratch, Howl, Ember, Flame Charge_  
_Met: Vaniville ~~Aquacorde~~  Town_  
  
_Max, Male Pidgey (lv 15)_  
_Naïve, Very finicky_  
_Ability: Tangled Feet_  
_Moves: Tackle, Sand Attack, Gust, Quick Attack_  
_Met: Route Two_  
  
_Tanner, Male Pidgey (lv 15)_  
_Hasty, Scatters things often_  
_Ability: Tangled Feet_  
_Moves: Tackle, Sand Attack, Gust, Quick Attack_  
_Met: Route ~~Three~~  Two_

 _Tyler, Male Psyduck (lv 15)_  
_Naughty, Proud of his power_  
_Ability: Damp_  
_Moves: Disable, Confusion, Tail Whip, Water Gun_  
_Met: ~~Route Twenty-Two~~  Santalune City_  
  
  
**Retired: 1**     **Dead: 0**     **Boxed: 0**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was hella difficult to write but it was so satisfying. I used to loathe battle scenes--don't get me wrong, I still do--but I feel like I've improved enough as a writer to the point where they aren't completely awkward.
> 
> Yes, I did draw from PokeDex entries to influence the battles because I am a PokeSpe fangirl. The real battle was nowhere near this dramatic, by the way. And I never used Max in battle, either. I'll post the battle log from my notes later.
> 
> And next up is Delphi vs Scizor! Until next time,  
> Luna


	23. Chapter 7: Essaim (Part 2)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hey, everybody! Sorry for the wait. I took a bit of a hiatus for a while. Hopefully updates will be a little less far between.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **The following content contains DISTURBING IMAGERY, STRONG LANGUAGE, and VIOLENCE AND GORE. Viewer discretion is advised.**

**Chapter 7—Essaim**  
(noun)

  * French for “swarm”



 

 

**VS SANTALUNE GYM (Part 2)**

Delphi watched as Trainer withdrew Tanner and then clutched the Ball to her chest, her fingers white against the red top. The strain from her earlier—“exertion” was a good word—seemed to have faded, her hands and knees trembling slightly but having mostly stilled.  
  
She brought the Ball to her forehead, eyes closing, and said something in Kantonese that he didn’t understand. Whatever it was, however, it was spoken in a tender, apologetic fashion laced with gratitude, voice thick and deep like she was fighting back tears—the meaning came across just fine. Delphi wanted to ask if she was alright but he was too scared of the answer. She needed to be okay, otherwise he was doomed.  
  
Swallowing, Delphi turned his gaze back to the field, silent and burning beneath the stage lights. The corpses were stiff and oozing and butchered in a rather cruel fashion. It was hard to believe that it was Tanner who did this, his fellow teammate who was far from sadistic, who was weird and forgetful but for the most part harmless—and he’d done this. The smell of Bug innards, pungent and overall repulsive, hit him even from this far away. He recoiled, bile rising his throat, and suddenly recalled the Beedrill swarm in Santalune Forest—he’d watched and them die as well, and it hadn’t been their fault either.  
  
Trainer clipped the Ball to her belt and turned her back to him. She took a deep, sharp breath, then her voice boomed as she called out, “Are you  _satisfied_ , Alexa?  _Huh_?! Is  _this_  what you wanted?!”  
  
“What  _I want_?!” Alexa’s laughter drifted from the other side of the field, off-kilter and incredulous. How could she laugh, at a time like this? “What  _I want_?! Don’t act like this was my fault, you incredible bitch! This was on  _you_.”  
  
Delphi’s jaw nearly fell open. Trainer’s brows vanished beneath her bangs, but her mouth tightened further. “ _My_  fault? Are—Are you fucking  _serious_?”  
  
“I am!” Alexa’s teeth were bared like a wild animal backed into a corner, a show of fear and rage and paranoia all at once. Her eyes were wild and primal, flashing around everywhere. “If you—If you hadn’t challenged me, Scarab and Cornelia would both still be alive. They’re dead now—they’re dead now, they’re dead now, they were too weak, but if you hadn’t killed them they’d still be here—everything would still be okay and you made it  _not_ okay  _you ruined everything_ —”  
  
“...okay.” Trainer turned to Delphi, her bangs casting a deep shadow over her eyes and an ethereal light flickering in her irises. The contrast was sharp, unsettling. “Just... ignore her. I think the strain of having to Transcend twice consecutively is starting to affect her.”  
  
Delphi nodded, but he looked back Alexa as she spat and rambled and he could have sworn she was starting to foam at the mouth. A shiver of trepidation trickled down his spine. He had known for a while that she wasn’t alright in the head, but there was a difference between hearing about it and then seeing it, watching her ramble and rave like a lunatic. And it wasn’t just a passive madness, either, but something aggressive, virulent, festering inside her like rot.  
  
She was far away, yet his sharp eyes could make her trembling bloodless fingers, the wideness of her eyes, the unhealthy angles of her face. He’d always heard that Transcendence took a toll, but he’d never thought it would be something like this, warping people into some sick caricature until they hardly resembled themselves.  
  
He remembered the way Claire’s voice had thickened when she spoke of Alexa, the concern that glittered in her blue eyes and how she’d begged Delphi to save her, save her, oh please oh please save her. He couldn’t find anything that resembled the person she’d spoken of.  
  
Alexa held up a Ball, her hand clenching around it so tightly he could have sworn he heard cracks spreading through the metal casing. “Garnett. Garnett will crush you. Garnett will crush you and your fucking fox and your fucking bird, do you hear me bitch this is fucking over I’m ending this  _right now_ —”  
  
A Scizor appeared in a brilliant flash of light. Brilliant red, like fresh blood, sharp and polished and metallic. Delphi got a chill at just the sight of it. Then Alexa touched her choker.  
  
Trainer must have begun Transcending at some point—he hardly felt her presence anymore, he was so used to it—but he saw the transformation happen. The Bug’s body lengthened and grew sharper, more geometric, exoskeleton seeming to strain against the growth and making ugly, cracking noises. If it were him, he would have screamed, but the expression on apparently-Garnett’s face was blank, eyes dead and pitiless. Its pincers grew broad and long, sharper, spiker, pure instruments of torture. Black infected its body, calcifying around the joints, forming a three-pronged crest upon its face. A normal Scizor was intimidating enough but the Ascended form sent a spike of fear through his heart—between the red and black and the blue eyes, it looked like an angel of death, a child of Les Ailes sent for the very purpose of reaping his soul.  
  
His ears flattened against his skull.  
  
“It’s not as scary as it looks,” Trainer said. Her voice was not quite gentle or reassuring, but the sound of it was comforting. “You can do this. Okay?”  
  
No. No, absolutely  _not_. Fear clutched at his chest and memories of how badly Tanner had gotten hurt flashed though his mind, returning with a bloody wing and splatter of goo on his feathers and as stiffness to his body as though he’d acquired arthritis. His heart thudded. Delphi could not kill someone. He couldn’t. He just  _couldn’t_. But he was going to have to and he couldn’t no way no way no—  
  
But she was  _counting_  on him. Trainer was  _counting_  on him and they had trained for three weeks  _just_  for this, just to  _finish_  this. Alexa couldn’t keep doing this. They all knew it and Delphi knew it and Trainer knew it and Claire had asked Delphi to stop her. Stop her, oh please, oh please stop her, and Alexa had Garnett and it wouldn’t be over until Garnett had fallen. Tanner couldn’t handle another round and even if he could, he’d already been returned, and the rules wouldn’t let him fight again. Max certainly couldn’t handle it, either—he’d run at the first sight of it, and Delphi had held him, felt him tremble and thrash and seen the genuine fear in his eyes. Which meant it was up to Delphi, up to him, all up to him, counting on him, relying on him, on him on him  _on him_.  
  
His breath shuddered in his lungs and his throat was closing up with fear, he thought he was going to cry, but he nodded anyway. “Yeah. Yeah. Let’s finish this.”  
  
“Start with Howl,” was her only reply.  
  
He bolted onto the field before he could have second thoughts. The white line of the border vanished behind him—it looked like some sort of threshold from behind, safe and protective and something he would ultimately regret crossing.  
  
Delphi felt dizzy. His heart pounded.  _Oh dear Goddess.  
  
Remember._ Trainer’s voice, firm, like a general at war.  _Stat buffs._  
  
Right. He could do this. He could do this.  
  
He could do this.  
  
Breathe. In, out.  _In._  
  
The air in his lungs hummed, and he let it out in a drawn-out, crooning howl. It wobbled, his nerves showing, but it did its job despite that—he could feel his muscles clenching, sinew tightening, blood thrumming, aura singing. His species was not one for physical attacks, but Flame Charge was his best move right now, and raising his physical power was the best way to ensure victory.  
  
Alexa let out a sound that was half caterwaul, half maniacal laugh. “That’s  _it_? You have a fucking Fire-Type and he just makes a little  _noise_? Pah! Garnett, show them how a  _real_  hunter goes in for the kill!”  
  
 _Move!_  
  
That was the only warning Delphi had before Garnett blurring forward, crackly fuliginous power gathering around its left pincher. On instinct, he tucked and rolled out of the way, just as the air ripped and ground exploded.  
  
Pain bit into his arm. He winced, clenching his teeth, and brought a paw to his shoulder. Something wet and warm met the pad of his paw, but that didn’t make sense. He hadn’t been anywhere near—  
  
The air was so sharp that it’d cut him.  
  
Garnett’s claw had buried itself in the ground with defining  _thunk_. It tugged, and couldn’t get loose.  
  
Trainer’s presence surged forward.  _Now, while its back is turned! Ember!_  
  
He instinctively grabbed his stick and lit it on the coarse hairs of his tail. The flame burned bright, brilliant orange, and unlike a flame sustained by air, it burned strong and steady because that was how aura worked.  _Not Flame Charge?  
  
Not yet, no. Let’s trying weakening it first.  
  
...okay._ Delphi charged forward and whipped his stick. The flame unfurled in an arc, flashing in orange and red and yellow before striking Garnett in the back.  
  
It screeched, thrashing, trying in vain to writhe away from the heat. But the pincer was stuck in the ground it stayed rooted in place like an anchor, kept Garnett struck and stranded and vulnerable to Delphi’s continuous onslaught.  
  
The screaming pierced his eardrums, sharp and caterwauling that seemed to echo throughout the entire field, filling the very air with the sound of pain. Delphi flinched, his loss of concentration causing the Ember stream to fizzle out.  
  
 _What’re you **doing**?!_  Trainer’s shock and anger was like a blow across the face.  _Don’t **stop**!_  
  
Delphi stumbled back. His head pulsed. Trainer’s presence had gone from passive to agitated, spiking and wild and throbbing.  _I-It was **hurt** —_  
  
Her presence only bared down harder on his mind.  _That doesn’t mean you **stop** , idiot!  
  
S-Sorry, I just—_  
  
There was a crack, then a snap, then a gushing noise. Delphi jumped back, refocusing on Garnett. The claw still remained jutting out of the ground, half-buried in the furrow it had created from the prior impact. But Garnett rose up, brandishing the other claw—one arm was broken at the joint, a foul-smelling, viscous fluid pouring from the stump. It drippled the ground, dampening the sand at its feet.  
  
Delphi swallowed thickly.  _Great Goddess._  
  
He felt Trainer drawing back and shudder.  _Well. Shit._  
  
Garnett’s other pincer flashed bright blue, then it suddenly devolved into a blur. A moment, it reappeared in front of Delphi’s face, blue eyes burning into him, and—  
  
And he froze.  
  
Pain slammed into his gut—his vision went white for a moment, the air rushing out from his lungs, teeth aching. The next thing he knew, he was skidding across the field, and came to a stop just as the sand started to dampen from, eugh,  _Bug goo_. He sat up, wincing at the damp ooze.  
  
Trainer’s presence spiked.  _Oi, kid. You okay?_  
  
Delphi coughed. His lungs ached. It felt like a firework went off in his gut.  
  
 _That can’t have hurt that much_ , Trainer scoffed with a reproachful note.  _That was Bullet Punch—it’s a weak move. Plus, you have a type resistance.  
  
It still hurt_, he protested. It was childish and he knew she had a point, but he still felt the need to defend himself.  
  
He felt Trainer tense, suddenly.  _You need to move. **Now**._  
  
Delphi barely had time to process her words when a sudden, inexorable weight crashed into him. White-hot agony exploded through him, like a thousand firecrackers going off at once inside his chest, punctuated by a decisive  _crack_.  
  
The ground beneath his paws vanished without warning, something metallic flooding his tongue. Then the ground came back, painfully  _hard_ , slamming into the side of his skull and sent it ringing like a Johtonese gong. He saw flashing lights, black and white and blotchy red stars bursting before his vision. His ears roared with Trainer’s shouts.

* * *

 

Hayami winced. She swore she could feel the impact herself, reverberating in the air and in her bones and in her skull. She felt both dizzy and sick at the same time.  
  
“Ouch,” Alistair said blandly. The pompous bird looked completely unmoved at Delphi’s suffering, vain and self-involved as he was. “What was that, Giga Impact? That looked like Giga Impact.”  
  
She heard Mint growl under her breath. “The hell did she find the time to teach that monster a move like that?!”  
  
“The hell did she even get the TM?” Tierno asked breathlessly. “I thought TMs were only accessible to League Trainers.”  
  
Calem’s face was shadowed in harsh lighting and severe, glowing angles. “Some TMs are accessible to Gym Leaders, but nothing like Giga Impact. Those are usually reserved for Trainers with at least six badges.”  
  
Serena was leaning forward in her seat so much that she looked hunched over, but she suddenly straightened, eyes wide. “Oh my god, Delphi’s getting up!”  
  
Hayami’s eyes snapped back onto the field. Delphi was swaying, his stick in one hand and the other hand pressed against his chest. His expression was one of intense pain, but there was stubbornness in there too, glinting hard in his eyes. She had to admit, she was rather surprised. Never in her wildest dreams had she expected him to soak up a Giga Impact like that, much less stagger back to his feet like that, bloody and a little worse for wear but the whites of his teeth showing as he bared them into a defiant snarl.  
  
“Atta boy!” Shauna cheered, a sentiment that Hayami shared.  
  
 _I’ve underestimated him_ , she mused, as Delphi reignited his stick and charged forward.

* * *

 

Delphi’s paws skidded he traced a wide circle around Garnett, sand sparking and heating beneath the blowtorch-like Ember he loosed. Every breath sent stabbing pain through his lungs, his vision starting to blur, but Trainer insisted he needed to capitalize on this opportunity, while Garnett recharged, motionless and statuesque. He could hear her in the back of his skull, repeating “keep going, keep going, keep going” in an endless mantra.  
  
 _And... stop!_  
  
At Trainer’s signal, Delphi’s legs gave out and he skidded to a halt. The sand was cool against the burning heat his body was radiating, flesh and blood straining against the overwhelming power a body so young should not be harboring. Heat pounded against his ears. His chest screamed.  
  
 _I’m sorry_ , Trainer said, deeply apologetic and trembling the slightest bit.  _If I’d known that bastard was packing Giga Impact, I would have acted. I... I didn’t react in time..._  
  
Her guilt made him nauseous.  _I-It’s okay, Trainer. I’m fine._  
  
He felt her disbelief like a tactile thing, but she said nothing else.  
  
As his ragged breathing evened out and the pain grew dulled by the rush of adrenaline, he caught Garnett shifting, regaining its mobility. It was hard to see, because the air above the overheated sand (glowing a brilliant, molten shade of orange) shimmered and warped from the intense temperature, like the pavement on a humid summer’s afternoon. But through the thick, sweltering haze, Delphi made out its wings sputtering to life (though the sound was drowned by the roaring in his ears).  
  
Then he saw it rush forward, a metallic sort of light accumulating around the crest on its head. A sense of urgency flooded him—it was aiming for him and he was right in the way, oh god, he couldn’t bring himself to rise to his feet couldn’t feel his legs he was going to get flattened—  
  
He squeezed his eyes shut, braced himself for a bone-jarring impact—  
  
 _It’s okay._  Trainer’s voice jarred his thoughts of death.  _It won’t touch you. Look._  
  
Incredulity filled him, but when he opened his eyes, he saw that she was right. Garnett hovered at the edge of the line, where the sand turned burning orange and the air shimmered. Its momentum had come to a grinding halt and it hovered there, something like uncertainty in its normally emotionless eyes.  
  
He frowned.  _What’s going on? Why is it—  
  
Transcendence, if it’s done improperly, can result in some nasty side-affects on the Pokémon_, Trainer explained with something like distaste. He can practically see the crinkle in her nose and the scowl in her mouth.  _That Scizor is being overloaded with so much power that its body temperature is through the roof. If it were to heat any more, the metal on its shell would melt—that includes crossing a barrier of superheated air, by the way. It won’t cross out of self-preservation instinct.  
  
So it’s trapped_, Delphi realized.  
  
 _Yup._  There was a hint of pride in her voice now.  _You can cross that barrier no problem because of your resistance to heat and fight it at close-quarters. And if you need to retreat, it won’t be able to follow you._  
  
He found a warm jolt of pride unfurling in his chest. This was truly the mind of an experienced Trainer at work. How impressive.  
  
 _The battle’s over_ , she announced darkly.  _All that’s left is to deal the killing blow._  
  
The pride in his chest quickly turned cold. Killing blow. Right. Reaper Battles didn’t end until one of two sides killed each other. Right.  
  
Remembering that he needed to kill—counting on him counting on him counting on him—had a sobering effect on him. He forced himself to sit up, wincing at the stabbing that went through his chest, and the throbbing noise in his ears began to ebb.  
  
He heard—shouting. ...Alexa?  
  
“ _Move_  dammit!” Her voice was harsh and booming and rasping. When he glanced at her, he saw that she was heaving with each breath, body physically  _shaking_. Her legs were trembling, as though threatening to buckle underneath her fragile weight, and that worried him. “Attack! Killitkillitkillit!”  
  
Delphi swallowed thickly and staggered to his feet. Something was wrong. Very wrong. Even though he was far away, he could smell it rolling off of her in waves—fear, its metallic pungency mixed heavily with the sweetness of decay. The two scents clashed and something like urgency fluttered in his gut as he continued to watch her with wide, fearful eyes.  
  
 _Delphi?_  Trainer, bewildered by his inactivity. He sensed her gesturing towards Garnett, who still couldn’t will itself through the wall of heat.  _The opponent’s over **there**._  
  
He opened his mouth to respond, honest to the Goddess he did. He’d had every intention of turning back to the monstrous crimson beast on the other side of the line, face it like David faced Goliath, because after all, that was what he’d trained for.  
  
Then he saw Alexa stagger, saw her legs give out. He saw her body jerk, and he  _heard_ —heard her coughing, hacking, like she was trying to vomit her vocal chords, like her lungs were diseased. She wrapped her too-thin white arms around her self, as though that were the only thing keeping her together, and she almost seemed sob around each convulsive jerk of her body.  
  
It happened out of nowhere.  
  
Crimson splattered all over her clothes, her shoes, the floor, everywhere, all over, red on red on red on  _red_.  
  
Before Delphi could even string a coherent thought together, he was running, running, Alexa’s crumpled form growing larger and larger and closer—  
  
 _What are you **doing**?!_  
  
But he’d stopped listening. All he could see was Alexa, crumpled in on herself, and Clair’s big blue eyes pleading up at him. The two images blurred in his vision, melded together—and then he was in front of her, watching her. Blood dribbled wetly from the corners of her lip, poured out her nose, wept from her eyes. And the stench, it was so much stronger up close, nearly overwhelming, rot and decay and blood and fear all bleeding together in a revolting medley.  
  
 _Delphi, get away from her._  Trainer’s voice was sharp with urgency, but Delphi didn’t hear. Alexa was trembling, like she was about to come apart at the very seams, and he didn’t think she posed any threat to him.  
  
Alexa’s head shot up to stare at him. Her eyes were too-wide, glass-like and blank and bloodshot. The haunted look lasted for only a moment before a snarl twisted her mouth, revealing pink-tinted teeth and blackening gums. “The fuck are you looking at you fucking fox?”  
  
“You’re dying,” he heard himself say quietly. “Your—your body. It’s... rotting. I can  _smell_  it. You’re... rotting from the inside out.”  
  
For a moment, she did nothing, said nothing. Only stared with those impossibly wide eyes set into a too-bony face. Then a noise filled the silence—a soft, undulating sound. As it loudened, Delphi realized it was  _laughter_ , of all things. She was  _laughing_.  
  
Then she threw her head back so sharply he feared her neck would break, and she  _cackled_. Her entire body trembled and jerked with her laughter, and he almost feared that she might fall apart. Unease flooded him, and Delphi instinctually made a grab for his stick, only to realize, with a jolt of horror, that he’d left it back over near the ring of hot sand.  
  
 _Delphi_ , Trainer hissed warningly.  _Get **away**  from her._  
  
His eyes fell on the swollen red jewel on her choker. It was bloated and throbbing, looking as though it might burst. He swallowed, remembering Claire and the fear in her gaze. “You need to stop Transcending.”  
  
At this, Alexa suddenly quieted. She stared at him, eyes huge, like a child caught sight of something interesting. “Stop?” she repeated, breathless and a little disbelieving, as though it were the most ridiculous idea in the world. “Why would I do that?”  
  
“It’s killing you,” he said, voice barely a whisper.  
  
 _Delphi!_  Trainer hissed.  
  
Alexa blinked at him absently, then, with an agonizing slowness, rose to her feet. He couldn’t help but compare her movements to a puppet on a string, limbs jerked this way and that by a will that was not her own. Then she chuckled—a sweet, soft discharge of amusement—and her smile was viperous. “Oh, you poor, poor deluded weakling. This”—she stroked the Keystone tenderly—“is making me  _strong_.”  
  
“You’re  _dying_ ,” Delphi insisted.  
  
“No.  _You_  are dying. I am strong. I am strong I am strong the strong do not die...” And with that, she lapsed back into her ramblings.  
  
 _For Bird’s **sake**._  Trainer’s voice became a frustrated growl.  _ **Leave**  her._  
  
The fur on his shoulders bristled. He remembered Claire, and Viola, and he couldn’t, couldn’t leave her like this.  _I can **help**  her.  
  
No. You can’t_, she retorted sharply, frustrated, as though this were an absolute fact and  _he_  was the stubborn one.  
  
But she was  _wrong_. No one was beyond saving and Claire’s blue eyes burned in his mind. He turned back to Alexa, tuning Trainer out. “Alexa—”  
  
“Weak,” she snarled with suddenly viciousness. Delphi almost jumped out of his skin. He was suddenly very aware of her untrimmed nails, of the strength in her bony fingers. “Weaklings, everywhere, all around me won’t go away weak weak weak don’t need them  _weak_ —”  
  
“Think about what you’re  _saying_ ,” he interrupted. His voice came out more desperate than he intended, but he ignored it. He could help her. He could help her. “These are your friends you’re talking about. Your  _family_. They mean something to you, don’t they? Think—think about them. They must be so worried—”  
  
Alexa let out an inhuman snarl, teeth bared and revealing how bloodied they were, how red and inflamed her gums were. Blood leaked from them, dribbled down her chin, spotted her blouse. But she wasn’t an animal. She was a person. A person, with reason and consciences that could be appealed to. A  _person_.  
  
“ _Fuck_  them,” she spat with a chilling, startling intense disgust. He jumped, startled at the intensity in her voice, the burn behind her eyes. “Fuck them, fuck Viola, fuck Father, fuck them all. Weak, weak, weaklings everywhere. Let them die let them  _rot_. I don’t  _need_  them.”  
  
Something like horror unfurled in his gut, but—no. No. She didn’t mean that. She  _couldn’t_. Claire and Viola, they  _cared_  about her. People don’t care about someone for no reason. There must have been a reason for the way Claire’s blue eyes shone with desperation and her vehement begging, for the way Viola’s hands shook and her voice quavered. They love her. And Alexa must love them back.  
  
 _ **Delphi**._  Trainer’s voice was exasperated, her presence pressing firmly against his skull, an incessant pressure. _For the love of god, she’s **unstable**. You can’t just  **talk**  her out of—_  
  
“You don’t mean that.” Delphi wasn’t sure if he was talking to Trainer or Alexa, but it cut Trainer off and it made Alexa hiss. “I know you don’t. Alexa, please—”  
  
A shudder went through her, and harsh laughter spilled from her throat. “ _Don’t_  tell me— _Don’t you fucking tell me_  what I mean or don’t mean  _you son of a_ —”  
  
“Think about your  _sister_ ,” he pressed. He could hear Trainer shouting at him and pressing against his skull, but at that statement, she suddenly went silent, almost mournfully so. “Viola is so scared, so worried about you—”  
  
“She’s  _weak_ ,” Alexa interrupted. Blood ran down her nose, so when she snorted derisively, it was red that came out. She didn’t even seem to notice. “Weak and stupid and weak how could Father think to pass the Gym onto her? She nearly  _bankrupted_  it because she was too weak, too soft-hearted, in one month  _I_  managed to turn the whole thing around she spent  _years_  just plodding along and struggling and it only took me  _one month_ —"  
  
“What about Claire?” He should have known better than to bring up Viola’s name, with the lingering resentment that Alexa apparently harbored her sister. “You—You remember Claire, right? Your Helioptile? Your friend? Think about  _her_ , Alexa. She’s  _scared_  for you. Please—”  
  
“Useless,” Alexa murmured.  
  
Delphi blinked, thrown. “W-What?”  
  
 _Delphi_ , Trainer cautioned.  
  
“She’s fucking  _useless_.” Alexa was hunched over, panting heavily. Her brows were knit, as if in deep concentration, but her words were still edge by something feral. “Can’t fight. Can’t use anything that can’t fight. Anything that can fight can shut up and die in the corner like the useless  _wretch_  it is.”  
  
He stepped back, feeling like he’d been struck.  
  
How could she not care? How could she say that about the people closest to her, who cared about her so  _deeply_ , so  _intensely_ —  
  
The air became charged, started to crackle and snap. A horrible prickling sensation went down his spine. Every hair on his body rose.  
  
 _Shit! Delphi, fucking **move**!_  
  
He was already moving before the order came, and just in time—dark energy slammed into the space where he’d stood, so sharp and wicked that the ground hit. A moment later, a red blur that was likely Garnett crashed into the ground so hard it sent sand and dirt spraying. It was all punctuated by a shattering  _boom_  that ripped the air to pieces.  
  
His eardrums rang as the dust settled. Garnett’s body glowed red-orange with heat, air warping around their body. Their one remaining claw was stopped just a breath from the ground, just before it could strike the sand and become imbedded, like before. Dark electricity crackled around the jagged edge.  
  
 _What the hell?!_  Trainer’s shock and panic  _throbbed_  against his skull.  _How did it—the fucker shouldn’t have been able to leave the circle! What the fuck?!_  
  
Delphi swallowed and took several steps back. The smell of iron was heavy and hot in the air. It burned against his nostrils, got stuck in his throat.  
  
And then—he noticed it. The way its exoskeleton was starting to...  _drip_ , for lack of a better word. Something liquid was dribbling down the polished surface of its metal shell. Little molten droplets fell onto the sand and sizzled, while the air expanded and warped as the Veil attempted to compensate.  
  
Horror froze his insides.  _It’s **melting**._  
  
 _No shit._  Trainer’s presence pounded thunderously inside his head.  _I told you, its body is burning and it just got exposed to a hell load more heat. Fuck. How did she override its preservation instinct?_  
  
Delphi shot a quick glance over his shoulder and spotted his discarded stick some ways back. If he could just run over and grab it—  
  
 _Don’t take your eyes off your opponent!_  
  
He whirled around. Garnett ambled forward, slow and menacing, pincher brandished and dark energy cracking around it. The steps were stiff, arthritic, as though the very action pained the Scizor to no end. A pang of sympathy went through his chest at the sight.  
  
Trainer’s frustrated growl rolled through his ears.  _Don’t feel sorry for the thing that’s trying to kill you, goddammit!_  
  
Her shout came in the nick of time. Garnett lunged forward with unnatural speed—Delphi ducked just in time for the incoming Night Slash to whiz passed. The crack of energy was deafening, booming against his eardrums like a cannon went off. The next thing he knew, there was dirt in his eyes and a sharp, raw pain against his shoulder and the ground crashes against his cheek.  
  
What happened. He ducked. How did he still get hit when he  _ducked.  
  
Aftershock_, Trainer informed him flatly.  _The sonic boom got you._  
  
He gritted his teeth as he sat up, one instinctively reaching up to clutch at his collarbone. Sheer agony welled up like magma from a fissure in the ground. Something hot and metallic bathed his tongue, dribbled between his teeth and pooled crimson beneath his paws. When he tried to sit up, his skull pulsed, and he wondered how in the Goddess’s name he was supposed to fight something that could break the sound barrier.  
  
 _With great difficulty_ , she educated, trying to sound prim and wise, but instead coming off as slightly condescending.  _But you don’t worry—you might not have to. From the way its shell is sloughing off of it, I somehow doubt it’ll be able to reach that speed again._  
  
Delphi felt a groan rise in his throat as he pulled himself unsteadily to his feet. His vision pitched and swayed, but through the bloody haze of pain, he realized she was right. Garnett had left a trail of smoking liquid in its wake, and as he followed it with his eyes, he eventually found himself taking in a great bulge in the sand—no, a smoking crater, he realized—located just next to the Heracross’s corpse.  
  
Before his eyes, Garnett slowly rose up, whole body weeping molten steel and a thick cape of steam rising from its body. Its face was melted on one side, one eye lost in the ruin of black and crimson bleeding into one another. The other eye burned artificially bright, ethereally blue, as its body jerked. The movements were broken, disjointed, like puppet being tugged sharply by its master, and every movement screamed with pain.  
  
Delphi swallowed (a mouthful of blood) thickly.  
  
“...Trainer?” His breaths were ragged, each one sending a firestorm through his lungs. “I don’t... I don’t think it can keep fighting. I don’t think...”  
  
 _It’s not just going to drop dead, Delphi_ , she retorted frostily. He flinched, and she seemed to realize her harshness, because the ice in her voice relented slightly, gave way to a tempered resignation.  _Transcendence—it doesn’t work that way. It’s not going to die unless Alexa releases it._  
  
Garnett staggered forward. Its one remaining claw was melted shut, and its wings had been reduced to defective masses that could not longer support flight. The smell of flesh cooking inside its molten shell made Delphi wince. “It’s suffering...”  
  
 _I know. And that’s why you have to finish it._  
  
His insides clenched. “I... I don’t...”  
  
The half-melted crest on Garnett’s head blazed, its gait growing swifter and it lowered its head. Delphi realized it was preparing an Iron Head, aiming straight for him.  
  
 _You don’t have a lot of options right now, Delphi._  Garnett was coming in swiftly, form growing as the distance shrinks.  _Either you fight it, or it kills you._  
  
He knew that. Intellectually, he knew that. But he looked at Alexa over his shoulder, saw her bloody and trembling, and looked at Garnett, melting as it charged at him, and he couldn’t. He couldn’t.  
  
 _Fight or die._  Trainer’s voice was hushed, but firm.  _Which is it?_  
  
Garnett was so close that he can feel the heat radiating off its molten metal shell. Time trickled to a slow crawl, and he could see each pained movement of its joints as it charged steadily forward. That glowing crest on its forehead was going to slam into his stomach any moment and he knew from experience that it would  _hurt_. Not as bad as Giga Impact, granted, but he was beat-up and bloody and one more hit might actually do him in, like Trainer warned.  
  
Stop.  
  
Decision time:  
  
Stay still, let the attack hit, refuse to hurt anyone else. Die. Honor before reason.  
  
Or fight. Move out of the way, put Garnett out of its misery, just as Trainer said. Continue living.  
  
Some would die before taking a life. Some would have been stronger.  
  
But Delphi was scared. He was young and bleeding heavily and scared. For one horrible moment, he was flooded by a bone-deep, visceral terror, and everything went blank. Instinct screamed through him and there it was, that basic survival instinct, ingrained into every fibre of your DNA.  
  
He banked left, Garnett missing him by milometers. And before he knew, it before he could even register the fact, flaming aura rippled off his fur, sparks igniting in the air. His muscles pulsed and bristled with new energy, and he scarcely thought  _So that’s why Trainer ordered those Howls_  before his vision stained with crimson-red fire.  
  
Heat roared in its ears, all around him, magma blazing beneath his flesh, fire pulsing in his blood. It consumed him, his whole being ignited into cinders and smoke and a great, torrid inferno. It was as though he had become the embodiment of fire itself, a living flame. With no warning, everything came into a sharp, clear focus, and then was running, legs pumping, and the Scizor barely had time to understand what was happening before—  
  
Garnett’s shell was soft, malleable beneath his weight as he slammed into it. He felt it bend and melt and dent, felt it crumble like a crushed aluminum can.  
  
To think something so fragile could support life.  
  
And then he is tumbling, rolling, dirt in his eyes and mouth and stinging in his wounds. His head crashes against the ground, and there is sand everywhere. Sand, and blood, and  _heat_.

* * *

 

Silence fell over the stadium. As in, you can hear a pin drop silence. It was really fucking unnerving.  
  
Shauna was clutching Mint so hard she could hardly breathe. Over the deafening silence, all she heard was her own heartbeat, the sound of her lungs struggling for oxygen. It was like her brain had shut down, refused to register that her body needed to breathe, fucking  _breathe_ , but the tension was too much. Too thick. You could cut it with a steak knife.  
  
Then the announcer shakily raised his mike to his mouth. “Garnett is no longer able to battle. The winner is... The challenger is...”  
  
Mint couldn’t hear anything beyond that, because the crowd was roaring too loudly. Celestine’s dark silhouette broke from her corner and streaked across the field, to where Delphi was collapsed into the sand.  
  
She saw Trevor’s hands trembling as they gripped the armrests. “Oh dear god.”  
  
Shauna breathed in sharply, but it sounded like a sob. “Be okay. Please, be okay.”

* * *

 

The stage lights pierced Delphi’s corneas. It hurt to look at it, the light flooding his eyes. He closed them, listening to the rhythm of his pulse in his ears, loud and thunderous. The heat was fading from a brilliant flare to a mere smolder, leaving a startling chill to fill up its absence.  
  
Breathing hurt. Lying down hurt. No matter what he did, there was a slow, persistent flare of agony boiling beneath his skin.  
  
 _Delphi._  Trainer’s voice echoed. Bounced around in his skull.  _Delphi, Delphi, Delphi—_  
  
“Delphi!”  
  
His eyes snapped open.  
  
A great, shadowy head had imposed itself between the blinding light and his line of vision. It began to slowly come into focus—long dark hair framing a pale, pretty face, and lazuline eyes that were dull of any ethereal spark.  
  
“Trainer?” His voice broke in his throat. His tongue felt dry and chalky and his mouth tasted heavily of iron. Only now he recognized that she pulled out.  
  
“Yeah, it’s me.” She was hold him, he realized, his body broken and fragile, cradled in her arms. Her presence was gone from inside his mind, but he could hear her heartbeat, his head having fallen onto his chest. “Genesis, Blaze did a number on you.”  
  
“Blaze?” he repeated. His skull felt sort of... fuzzy.  
  
“Your ability, Blaze.” Everything shifted, and he realized she was standing up, moving. His vision blurred. He was tired. He wanted to sleep. “It kicked in with that last Flame Charge. Really saved your ass.”  
  
He tried to ask if that meant it was over, but it came out in mumbled gibberish.  
  
She seemed to understand anyway. “It’s okay. Garnett’s down. We won.”  
  
Relief flooded him, turned his bones to jelly, and he sagged in her grip, letting out a sigh. For a few blissful moments, he was content only with the knowledge that there was no more fighting, and that was the end of it.  
  
Then awareness hit him.  
  
His muscles clenched with remembrance, because this was a  _Reaper_  Battle. If he won, then that meant—  
  
He peered over Trainer’s shoulder, through the ebony curtain of her hair, and...  _there_. It sat, twisted and mangled, a blackened, smoldering wreckage of what had once been a living being. Half-melted in a pool, smoke rising from the twisted skeletal frame, and it is the stuff of nightmares, that form. That broken body. That crumpled metal shell that wasn’t even a living thing anymore, much less looked like it could ever be one.  
  
Gravity caused it to shift. Something round and bulbous lolled to the side. A single blue eye pierced him.  
  
 _It’s dead._  The sheer horror that crashed into his system is so heavy he was surprised he didn’t just pass out, right then and there.  _It’s dead and I killed it oh my god I killed someone oh my god ohmygod—_  
  
Screaming.  
  
Delphi looked up sharply. Suddenly, Trainer was standing over Alexa—Alexa, who was on the floor, writhing and screaming and clawing at her throat. Wailing. A broken, inhuman litany of pain and dying. Suddenly he couldn’t hear anything but that sound, that sound. He looked up, at Trainer, anywhere else.  
  
But Trainer was not much of an improvement. His gaze drank in a tight mouth, narrowed eyes, and a winkle in her nose, as though looking at a cockroach, or gum on her boot. It startled him, chilled him, to see her features warped into something so cold, so apathetic. Especially with another human being like this, on the ground, trapped in the throes of a seizure.  
  
Slowly, very slowly, she tiptoed her way around Alexa, who was still writhing and caterwauling and clawing bloody furrows into her own flesh. But Trainer paid her hardly any mind. She was so unnaturally calm, unnaturally purposeful with her movements, as she crouched down to set Delphi on the ground. It was so unnerving how precisely she moved, how carefully she checked to make sure he was comfortable as she leaned him down, and nice and slow, with no more than a half-hearted murmur for him to rest while she took care of something.  
  
He was flitting in and out of consciousness, vision flashing between light and darkness, but he caught Trainer turn her back to him. Caught her crouching over Alexa’s thrashing form, dark hair cascading down her back, pooling around her ankles. He couldn’t see her face, only Alexa’s fingers clawing at herself. For a moment, he couldn’t decide which was worse.  
  
“So.” Trainer’s voice was soft, cold. She clucked her tongue. “You’re finally dying.”  
  
“Shut up!” Alexa snarled. Through the haze of half-consciousness, he saw her whirl around, green irises burning bright blue. It was like the light was rotting away at her eyes, eating her from the inside. “Not gonna die too strong not gonna die like hell not gonna die—”  
  
A soft, mirthless chuckle breezed through Trainer’s lips. “Transcendence is the very thing that’s killing you, you stupid bitch. Power like this comes at a price.”  
  
Delphi tried to sit up, only to be flooded by a wave of hot pain, vision bursting into brilliant light. He heard Alexa release a guttural snarl.  
  
“And you had so much, too,” Trainer went on, cold, but with a note of something else. Lonely, sad almost. He caught her pale arm reaching out, suddenly snatching the choker on Alexa’s neck. The Gym Leader (if she could be called that) snarled and clawed at her arm, but the flesh just healed. “You had people who loved you. People who are gonna fucking mourn you. And you had to do something like this, all because you were too selfish and jealous to see what was right in front of you.”  
  
Her fingers began to tug. The breath caught in Delphi’s throat.  
  
“I hate people like you,” she said flatly. “You’re too far gone to save.”  
  
In one sharp motion, Trainer ripped the choker off. The fabric snapped and Alexa  _screamed_ , then went horribly, horribly still.  
  
Delphi whimpered.  
  
She held out the choker in her hand. By the fingertips, almost afraid to soil her hands with it. The gem pulse once, then winked out, turned dim. “‘If we lose love and self respect for each other, this is how we finally die’,” she murmured, so soft he scarcely heard her.  
  
Then he saw her tuck the choker into her pocket, hastily, as though afraid of being caught. As though the act were illicit. Once she had it safely tucked away, she leaped to her feet with a sense of urgency that belied her prior composure. Delphi watched the Veil ripple and pulse around her as she cried out, voice trembling and thick with an emotion he couldn’t identify, “Quick! Somebody get a doctor!  _Hurry the fuck up_!”  
  
He wrenched his gaze away from her and looked back at the ground. Alexa’s form was so, so still. Unmoving. Not breathing. Her spindly fingers twitching, eyes wide and glassy and  _blank_. They bored into him, sightless.  
  
Bile welled in his throat. No. No, it couldn’t be. She wouldn’t. Trainer would  _never_ —  
  
Darkness bled into his vision. Her silhouette was a stark, wicked shadow against the stage lights. All he heard was the sound of her voice screaming, falsifying urgency (as though a corpse could just get up and walk away) when there was no need. The pilfered keystone in here pocket.  
  
Then there was unconsciousness, and the sweet liberation from guilt and fear and horror. From the fact that there was blood on his paws.

* * *

 

**Braixen X/OR Dex entry: It has a twig stuck in its tail. With friction from its tail fur, it sets the twig on fire and launches into battle.**

**\----**

**Mega Scizor Sun Dex entry: The excess energy that bathes this Pokémon keeps it in constant danger of overflow. It can’t sustain a battle over long periods of time.**

**\----**

**Mega Scizor US Dex entry: It stores the excess energy from Mega Evolution, so after a long time passes, its body starts to melt.**

* * *

 

**Current Team:**

_Delphi, Male Braixen (lv 15)_   
_Docile, Takes plenty of siestas_   
_Ability: Blaze_   
_Moves: Scratch, Howl, Ember, Flame Charge_   
_Met: Vaniville ~~Aquacorde~~  Town_   
  
_Max, Male Pidgey (lv 15)_   
_Naïve, Very finicky_   
_Ability: Tangled Feet_   
_Moves: Tackle, Sand Attack, Gust, Quick Attack_   
_Met: Route Two_   
  
_Tanner, Male Pidgey (lv 15)_   
_Hasty, Scatters things often_   
_Ability: Tangled Feet_   
_Moves: Tackle, Sand Attack, Gust, Quick Attack_   
_Met: Route ~~Three~~  Two_

_Tyler, Male Psyduck (lv 15)_  
 _Naughty, Proud of his power_  
 _Ability: Damp_  
 _Moves: Disable, Confusion, Tail Whip, Water Gun_  
 _Met: ~~Route Twenty-Two~~  Santalune City_  
  
  
 **Retired: 1**     **Dead: 0**     **Boxed: 0**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, The reason I struggled with this so hard is because I had to keep revising and re-choreographing the scene. I swear this went through, like, three revisions. Part of me considered scrapping the whole thing at one point, but that ended up only making it even harder to write, so I went back and edited the original version. Coming out of it, I'm more than satisfied with this version. It was just tough writing the action parts and then stringing it all together and just, well, finding the motivation, really.
> 
> While I am officially off hiatus, I would like to warn you the updates will continue to remain irregular (well, come to think of it, when have they ever _been_ regular?). Thank you to all my readers for supporting me this far.
> 
> The quote I used for Celestine at the end is from Mata Angelou. I _was_ looking for a line from a poem, but I stumbled across this and it just fit so perfectly I couldn't _not_ use it.
> 
> That's all for now. Sincerely,  
> Luna


	24. Chapter 8: Déchiré (Part 1(?))

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Important announcement at the end.

**Déchiré**  
(adjective)

  * French for "torn", "riven", "agonized", and "broken"



 

 

_�I�ve been here **so very long**_

_And every word is calculated_

_**Never questioned**  or debated_

_All these practiced poses_

_**I could wreck it I had to** _

_**But I�m the wreck** so what would that do?�_

��Masterpiece Theatre I�, Mariana�s Trench

 

The hospital smelled like antiseptic and disinfectants and everything Celestine hated. It was just too clean-smelling, too unnatural, and if she had to stay here much longer, she was going to break something.

White, white, white, all around her. It was suffocating, claustrophobic. Hospitals always unnerved her (how can you feel comfortable in a place where people die and are euthanized almost daily?), but there was a difference between walking into a hospital as an observer and being confined to a white cot, forced into a papery gown, with an IV jabbed into your arm. When you were an observer, you could remain detached. You didn't watch the nurses and think to yourself,  _this one is mine, she's coming in with bad news or news that she thinks is good but is actually meaningless to me and a smile that is definitely patronizing_. You didn't feel trapped, didn't feel like you were in an ivory cage, and the smell of cleanness—of an absolute lack of dirt and filth and all the things that make life  _real_ —wasn't quite so unnerving.

But she was a patient, now. A patient with a medical chart clipped neatly to her bedpost detailing how she was administered under what is being called "blood sugar crash", but was actually code for "almost passed out from Transcendence-overexertion". Which, okay, was really stupid—Transcending three times in a row is a strain even for a well-trained Aesith, and she was not that. If anything, she'd only gotten so practiced and precise from continuous trial and error (the results of which she still has nightmares about, but, anywho). But they couldn't write down anything involving Transcendence or the media would have a field day.

Hell, they were  _already_  having a field day, Celestine mused grumpily. Greenaway was doing her best to keep the vultures at bay, as per her designation of damage control. Celestine may not like the woman particularly, but she had to admit, she was doing a good job of turning away reporters chasing the scent of blood and keeping Alexa Dupuis's death labelled accidental. A stress-induced heart attack. That was the official story. And Celestine had been administered into the hospital on account of low blood sugar, or anemia, or something else involving blood, because anything involving blood was immediately plausible for why people grow dizzy and their knees tremble and why they stumble drunkenly into the arms of the paramedics.

When she closed her eyes, she can almost picture herself back in that arena. One hand clinging to the corrupted Keystone, how it burned hotly against her palm (its heat was nothing new, she must have held dozens in the last five years) and Delphi's broken body cradled in her trembling arms.

The Keystone was currently tucked away safely in her pocket—the pocket of her jeans, anyway. She'd feel a lot better once she got her actual clothes back and ditched this paper-thin replacement dress they forced her in. It didn't even fully cover her body, dammit. Her ass was completely exposed.

At least you couldn't see it under these scratchy covers. But it'd still be a shame if some camera-wielding freaks burst in, eager for a shot of the foreign girl who claimed the Gym Leader title.

 _Thank god I got rid of that as soon as I did._  She flashed back to yesterday morning—Calem coming in, dropping a thick stack of documents on her lap, eyes ringed with shadows as he explained to her that he spent all night haggling with someone he knows in the League system just to get the files there and a promise that they would be notarized by the end of the week. Which was, to her understanding, lightspeed by bureaucracy standards, so she'd nodded and offered him a twitch in her lip that wasn't quite a smile when he told her she'd better be fucking grateful. With the sloppy hand of someone who wanted to be over and done with everything, she signed and initialed every dotted line and x-marks-the-spot place and anywhere that demanded ink meet paper. He d labelled them with color-coated little tabs, and she couldn't decide if that was OCD behavior or him just insulting her by thinking her incapable of deciding what to do where.

She'd decided on feeling insulted. It was always safe to assume people were insulting you, even when they didn't realize it.

Then she'd come to the last page, and blinked.

"This says I have to give a statement to the press." In hindsight, there was a note of something like betrayal in her tone. It was slightly shameful to admit that now.

And he'd looked at her with dark eyes that were just so, so  _tired_  and responded flatly, "My contact also works in the media."

"Calem."

"Look, it doesn't have to be a whole recounting—you can just write one sentence. But you have to write  _something_  if you don't want this to end up sitting on someone's desk for a month." When she'd still looked unconvinced, he'd sighed heavily and began massaging his temples. "Originally, she wanted an interview. Like, the on-camera kind. This a compromise."

"Compromise," she'd repeated incredulously.

Something on his face had changed. "Look—you've made your bed, so you re going to lie in it, because I am  _not_  fucking changing your bedsheets for you. So write a damn sentence."

She remembered pursing her lips and feeling oddly guilty. Remembered being acutely aware of the circles around his eyes, how his annoyance was born from sleep deprivation—and she'd felt a thrill of stifled gratitude. She allowed her shoulders to slump in defeat, thought for a moment, then scribbled something down across the paper. Folded the documents back up, and handed them back to him.

"A  _complete_  sentence," he'd said, eyeing the documents skeptically.

"I did," had been her flat response. Prick.

He flipped through to make sure every "t" was crossed and every "i" dotted. When he reached the back page, his brows arched inquisitively. He'd held it up for her to see. "What are these?"

And she'd smirked. "Kanji."

"What?"

"Kantonese writing symbols," she'd clarified. "You said write a sentence—you didn't say which language."

Calem had scoffed, then folded the packet back up. "Bitch," he said, but there was a note of something like longsuffering amusement in his tone rather than annoyance.

He hadn't been her only visitor. Serena showed up with word from Hakase, who wanted her in Lumiose the minute she was discharged. "The sooner you're out of Santalune, the better," were his exact words, according to Serena. He'd thought that the story might die down sooner if she weren't there for questions and comments. Celestine couldn't decide if that was naïve or not, but she consented nonetheless. It wasn't as though she had anywhere else she could go—going back south was out, and even then, Lumiose was logically the next step. She gave Serena her word that she would make for Lumiose once discharged, and the blonde girl had left slightly unconvinced but, for some uncomprehendable reason, willing to trust her regardless.

Trevor and Tierno had both come in after that. Tierno first, and he d sat on her bed and asked how she was feeling. Nice guy, Tierno, but his attempts at small-talk were met with general annoyance, and he d eventually taken the hint, departing with news that her team was recovering well and a "get well" that seemed to fall flat. Trevor, however, had arrived with the express purpose of finding out what the hell had happened, and though he stumbled over his words uncertainly, faltering repeatedly and trailing off, the intent and determination behind it were clear. He had a scientist's curiosity and it would not be sated until she gave him a proper answer. She'd turned him away, knowing full well that this was not over.

That was yesterday. Today, Shauna parked herself in a plastic chair at Celestine's bedside with a bouquet of crocuses in her arms.

Celestine blinked at them dully. "You shouldn't have."

"I didn't." Shauna plucked a card from the tissue paper wrapping and handed it over. "A secret admirer. According to Miss Greenaway, a lot of people have been sending you gifts."

That didn't make a lick of sense. Celestine turned her head the nurses insisted she lie down, even though she was  _fine,_  but she was tired of scolding looks and patronizing reprimands and she was tired overall, so hell, she wasn't moving her head from this pillow. "Like who?"

"People who lost Pokémon to Alexa, mostly. Or... loved ones." There was a deep note of sorrow in the way Shauna said that. Celestine looked at the linoleum tiles to avoid the way her eyes misted, but she recovered quickly. "The Gym staff, too. Basically anyone who's thankful that Alexa's been evicted."

The card was very general. Store-bought, the font glittery as it delivered its platitudes. There was no proper signature, only a "Sincerely, a well-wisher" penned at the bottom.

She closed it with a snort. "Evicted" was too weak a word. "Am I getting hate-mail, too?"

The fact that Shauna didn't answer immediately said everything.

Celestine's chuckle was dry and scratchy, like barbed wire in her throat. The card made a light, dry thwacking noise as it fell into the nearby trashcan. "They think I killed her, don't they?"

"...no," Shauna said, but it was meant as reassuring. Reassuring in a way that meant someone needed comforting, which meant she was lying even more than the pause indicated.

Well, it wasn't like Celestine could blame them. She remembered the fabric of the choker beneath her fingers, the way the Keystone burned as it ate up Alexa's life, how she screamed and writhed and—then went abruptly still.

The monitor's beeping accelerated. Celestine squeezed her eyes shut and fought a strangling tightness in her throat. Death was nothing new, or spectacular. She should not be panicking like this, should not be fighting the hollow twist in her stomach for something she had to do.

Had to do.

_I had to. There was no other way._

And something that sounded suspiciously like Calem's voice snorted inside her head,  _Keep telling yourself that, Lavieaux._

Darkness thrummed beneath her eyelids. The darkness didn't judge. It stared back, but it didn't judge.

"Celie." Shauna's voice hardened. "Look at me."

Dully, Celestine turned her head. Caught sight of the IV and the saline bags and the monitor beep-beep-beeping in tune with her heartbeat. And she grimaced, averting her gaze.

Puzzlement gathered on Shauna's expression. "You okay?"

"Okay" did not even  _begin_  to cover it. The white walls burned and every breath was filled with an unnatural cleanliness that stabbed her lungs. People thought that making disinfectants smell like citrus meant it was nicer, but it only served to make her nauseous. But Celestine was not going to tell Shauna this, though. Not going to share something so irrelevant to the situation, so all she said was, "I hate hospitals, and I hate needles."

Shauna's lip curled in halfhearted amusement. "You don't seem like the type."

"To hate hospitals?"

"To be afraid something as childish as needles."

Personally, Celestine didn't think there was anything childish about being afraid of needles, but that was just her. Instead, she turned back to the flowers bundled in Shauna's arms. The purple was much too cheery. "What do those mean?"

"Um." Shauna looked down helplessly at the bouquet. "I think glee'? I don't know. The whole 'language of flowers' thing isn't my forte. I'm Hoennian."

In the first place, Celestine found the whole language of flowers thing really stupid, so she could appreciate that. "If people're gonna send me flowers, they shouldn't send me something so inappropriate."

That elicited a laugh from Shauna. A nice, sweet sound of something not-quite broken, but not-quite whole, either. "Right? Some of these people are kinda psycho, too." She flashed a conspiratorial smile, then leans forward a little, eyes twinkling with mischief. "Like, there's this one guy at the front desk in a brown trench coat—kind of like Miss Greenaway's, but not really—and he's insisting that he's your  _guardian_  or whatever—"

What.

Something on Celestine's face must have changed, must shown the unholy horror rising in her throat to strangle the breath in her airways, because Shauna broke off. If Shauna said anything else, Celestine didn't hear, didn't see, because white noise settled in her skull and she could just imagine—just imagine a dark-haired man arguing stiffly with the nurse at the front desk. Pulling out paperwork and legal guardianship and his badge, to boot, if he really wanted to scare the old gal. He would, too. Guy loves flashing his badge.

"...Celie?"

"What's his name?" Celestine's mind raced. It couldn't be him, couldn't be. He wouldn't come all the way down here, potentially blow his cover and this whole operation, just for  _her_ , would he?

Oh, fuck, he definitely would.

"Um." Shauna looked uncertain. "I didn't really catch it—Um. Bel-something? I dunno. It sounded fake."

The thudding of Celestine's heart was making the monitor react. Badly. She was almost afraid to ask, but she does anyway. "Beladonis?"

Shauna blinked in surprise, and then looked concerned. "Yeah. How did you—"

A knock on the door cut Shauna off. Both girls turned as the door opened, and a nurse poked her head in, a little sheepish. "Um, Mlle Lavieaux? You have another visitor."

Oh Birds. Oh Genesis Almighty. Oh please, oh please, if there was any god out there with even a shred of mercy—

"It's your legal guardian," the nurse adds, uncertain.

Celestine squeezed her eyes shut and tried to press herself flat against the flimsy mattress. Shit.

The knot of horror and apprehension in Celestine's stomach must have shown on her face, because the nurse hesitated. "I can... send him away, if you like?"

That sounded like a very, very good idea. Celestine would almost agree to that, except she knww it probably wouldn't work, and sending him away would only make her look guiltier than she already was, which would be extremely bad. Plus, she doubted it would even be possible, because in the cosmic game of rock-paper-scissors, IP agent  _definitely_  trumped small-city hospital nurse.

She opened her mouth, but there was no time for a response. The nurse let out a yelp as a man brushed passed her, and Celestine bolted upright with wide eyes. "M-Monsieur!" the woman cried, flustered and shocked and bewildered. "You can't just  _barge in_ —"

He didn't seem to here hear her. The subtle age lines of his face were set into a severe expression that would have been a cool, professional mask on anyone else, but his heavy brows and dull, dark eyes gave it a more ominous touch. His hair was short in the back and sweeped out in the front, and from the solid dark color of it, you'd almost have guessed he was younger than he is. But there was no mistaking the expression in his eyes—heavy, empty and full at the same time, the expression of a hardened man who's seen shit and copes with it thanks to liberal amounts of whiskey. Or cognac. He preferred cognac. She knew that much, at least.

Those dark, cognac-craving eyes roved her, and she tried to sink into her hospital sheets, become one with the paper-thin garment and the IVs stuck in her arms and her heart was thrumming wildly, the monitor giving a shrill beep with each frantic thud. His mouth thinned into a line (she noted, absently, that he looked in need of a shave, stubble didn't suit him), and he jabbed his hands into the pockets of the long trench coat that draped his broad shoulders. He held himself with all the dignity and poise of professional, but she knew him. Knew what's silently bubbling beneath the dignified set of his shoulders.

It dawned on her, then. Actually dawned on her. And she became fully aware that she was utterly, completely, royally  _fucked_.

She cracked a nervous, god-fearing smile that she knows was very unlike her, and chuckled. Fucking chuckled. "Heyyy, Looker. Long time no see!"

Oh god. That was so lame. She was so  _fucked_.

Looker—Agent Looker, distinguished member of the Valor Division of the International Police, veteran of over ten years—ignored her. His dark gaze flicked over to Shauna, then narrowed subtly. "Leave," he said, forceful but not unkind.

Either Shauna was psychic or Celestine was really bad at hiding how fucking terrified she was, because the Hoennian sent her an uncertain look. "Um..."

"Leave," Looker repeats. Then, he added, "Please."

Oh fuck.

Guys like him were not polite unless they were in a really good mood or phenomenally pissed. There was no way it was the former.

Again—oh  _fuck_.

Shauna sent Celestine another concerned look, but she unfolded her legs and rose to her feet, all the while looking as though she'd rather be doing to exact opposite. She took Celestine's wrist, gave it a quick squeeze, and murmured, "I'll be back later, 'kay?"

Celestine wanted to beg Shauna not to abandon her, but then it occured to her that such a thing would be a sign of weakness. So now she was very, very conflicted. Fucking hell, why couldn't anything ever be easy.

"Okay," she said, and hopes the  _please don't leave me to face his wrath alone_  didn't ring through.

With another concerned look, Shauna shuffled over to the door, casting Looker a wary glance as she cradled her bouquet close to her chest. Looker watched her leave from the corner of his eye, and turned his head subtly to study her as she departed. Once Shauna has left, the nurse shot Looker a distrustful glare, which he returned disinterestedly. The distrust, however, was clearly not enough to escort him out, because the woman only huffed, then left him and Celestine alone.

The door closed with a soft click.

He turned back to her so sharply it was like cutting your finger on a knife, swift and clean and bloody. "What in the  _hell_  were you thinking?"

Celestine flinched. Actually flinched. It was like a slap to the face, coming from him. "Okay, wait—"

"Do not answer. It is obvious you  _were not_  thinking," he interrupted sharply. Sharp enough for her to wince. The apathetic poise in his shoulders had given way to a furious tenseness, and he removed his hands from his pockets, allowing her to see how they clench into fists. She wondered if this was what it's like to stare down the barrel of a gun and see your life flashing before your eyes. "Had you been  _thinking_ , you would have courteously informed me of the situation, rather than leap—headlong—into the danger you did!"

That wasn't fair. "It just  _happened_ , okay "

"No! It is  _not_  okay!" He shook his head, brows furrowed. He was upset you could tell by how thick that fucking accent is, how it was harsh and heavy and corrupted the vowels. His Common was already broken, but the accent bled into it all the more heavily, now. "This is not condonable behavior! Have you any idea the sort of mess you have created "

"No, I  _don't_." Something hardened in her gut. Maybe it was the word "mess" that set it off, because that was always been a trigger word for her. Mess. Don't mess around, mess with me, make a mess. Your mess to clean up because you don't finish that thought. "But I  _do_  know what  _could_  have happened."

There was something derisive in the way he regarded her. "Enlighten me, then."

Oh, wow. Okay. She was actually being given a chance to speak her piece. Emboldened and trying not to let her nervousness show, she breathed in deep and kept going. "I've  _seen_  abusive Transcenders, Looker. It's not pretty, and Alexa had all the signs of impending burnout."

"Burnout" is such a mundane term—it sounds like something reserved for college kids who don't get enough sleep, not people who turn into monsters.

"If I let her keep going on any longer, she was liable to start attacking things at random."  _Like challengers, like her own sister._  "Anything that fucking moved. It's a  _miracle_ she stuck to the arena as long as she did."

What Celestine didn't say was how fast it progressed. How the Keystone had exacerbated Alexa's jealous tendencies, her natural envy. How constant use had blackened her soul until she didn't bat an eyelash at murdering her only family. If Celestine thought about that, she would just get nauseous, and she didn't need to vomit right now, thanks. Didn't want to dump her stomach contents all over that sparkly card from an anonymous well-wisher.

Looker's eyes narrowed. Like he knew every single thought in her head. He was a damn good detective, after all. "Celestine. The circumstances, they are not lost on me. My concern, however—it lies in the recklessness with which you acted."

She opened her mouth and searched for a way to defend herself, but nothing came out. Closing it again, she glared down at her hands, fighting back the helpless frustration that rose in her chest. The IV protruded repulsively from the pale, tender flesh of her arm. It sickened her.

"You did not think."

_No. I didn't. I'm sorry._

"You only reacted."

_Okay, well—_

"With no plan in mind, you put yourself in harm's way."

_...there's a term for that—_

"My superiors are fairly furious."

_Well, fuck, I can"t control how they feel._

"They want," he says, with deliberate slowness, "to take you off this case."

Celestine's head snapped up.

"They can't." It was her automatic response. She knew, logically, that the Director of what-the-fuck-ever could take her off the case if he chose. Knew he had that power. But. But—he  _couldn't_.

He closed his eyes and exhaled. All the tension melted off him, seemingly, and he suddenly just looked very tired. She hated it, hated how old he looked. "The Director was not thrilled, in the first place, that you were brought here, Celestine. Your case, this does not help. Not at  _all_."

"He can't," she said. It was all she seems capable of saying, right now. "He— He can't—"

"You are no agent." There was no apology in Looker's tone. Just fact, just unbiased truth. "Or freelancer. You are a civilian, lacking of sufficient training."

Her fists gathered bunches of scratchy fabric and she thought back to literal  _years_  of smelling metal and blood and the antiseptic that tried, in vain, to mask the prior two scents. "You  _need_  me."

"You were not asked to do this." His voice was soft, but not kind. "You volunteered."

 _"Because_  "

He interrupted by holding up a single hand, and the sight of it snapped the shock out of her. All the rage came back, hot and bloody and like an inferno just got lit in her belly. The fumes of it itched in her throat, choked her lungs, made her mind burn. She wanted to snarl and foam at the mouth and snap the fingers off his hand, but she restrained herself because she was not a wild animal, dammit.

"I know why." And there was something profoundly sad and mournful in the way he says it.

Right. She staved off the rage by panting, by expelling the hot air building inside her lungs. Staved it off by listening to her pulse roar in her skull and thinking about blood, about death, about dismantling everything with these red-slicked hands of hers and laughing at the beautiful destruction. Yes that was truly something worth living for.

Then Looker closed his eyes, and he suddenly looks tired. "But, you did not have to kill Alexa Dupuis."

She flinched, and looked away.

And there it was. There was the truth she couldn't fight, couldn't ignore. There was a person, out there, who was being mourned because of her. A set of lungs that were not breathing, a heart that was not pumping—because of her. Someone was  _dead,_  because of her.

 _This is not self-loathing_ , she tried to convince herself as her fists trembled and her chest throbbed and she wrestled with the urge to vomit. The white walls burned and she wanted to paint them red, wanted to paint them with blood, wanted to slather her life all over them. She could cut herself open, spill her insides out all over these scratchy sheets, but she would endure. She would live. Everyone else can die prematurely, but she couldn't. Not until her body got too old, to the point where it couldn't possibly function anymore.

_I am Aesith. I am strong. I am meant to be a guardian against the corrupt._

"Yes," she said quietly, "I did."

"Celestine—"

"You didn't  _see_  her." Fuck. Her voice was trembling. Her throat felt tight. That only happened when she was going to cry and she was not going to do that, not going to cry over some random woman because she wasn't that weak. She  _was_ _n't_. She's an Aesith, a fucking  _gardien_ , and this was her  _job_. Her cosmic fucking duty, apparently. Not the one she wanted, or asked for, but fuck, only the strong are made Aesith (apparently). "Looker, I— I stared in her fucking eyes and there— there wasn't anything  _left_  of her, okay? There was nothing to  _recover_."

The arena. The hot lights. Malachite eyes that swirled with broken humanity, splinters that would gladly gouge into anything they could and laugh as it bled out. ( _I don't want to see this_ —)

"She was gone, Looker. Fucking  _gone_." It hurt, it hurt, her veins were on fire and she had no idea why. She didn't do that to Alexa, wasn't the one who dropped that Keystone in her palm or strapped it to her neck—but the blood was on her hands anyway. And wasn't that just fucking fair? "All her humanity, her capacity for love and compassion— It was fucking  _gone_  and that fucking stone  _ate_  it!"

"Celestine," he said, nice and soft. No more than a whisper.

Her fists trembled and her vision blurred and she hated her own weakness. Absolutely fucking hated it. Only the strong were born Aesith. What a fucking joke. "I had to get that stone off her. I  _had_  to! There was... there was no other  _way_..."

She bowed her head, and it felt like an act of surrender. To what, she didn't know. Not to him. Never to him. He was on her side, after all.

"I am sorry," he tells her, and she didn't doubt that he meant it.

Celestine almost laughed.  _Sorry_. Wasn't that a crazy notion? Apologizing to a fucking murderer. This world was so fucking twisted.

The flintiness in his gaze was unforgiving, but also pitying. "Such things are not a child s duty. No child should look at the world and see only evils needing purging."

"Yeah, well." The word "child" sent an awful tingling through her hands and feet. She foldrf her legs beneath the sheets to be rid of it, and the fabric scratched against her thighs. Her bangs dripped in her eyes as she looked up at him. "Like you said, I signed up for this, 'member? I mean, not the Aesith part—that just sucks. But the fact that I'm in Kalos in the first place. That's  _my_  decision."

"Of which, I was very much against," he said. Like that somehow absolved him. Which he probably knew didn't, from the weariness on his face. Did he know that he looked so much older than he is?

"You and Hakase both." Only Hakase didn't know the whole story. Just a fraction, just the tip of the iceberg. He knew she was working for the IP and he dodn't like that, didn't like children running around on government order.

But here's the thing—she hasn't been a child for a long time.

Looker shakes his head slowly. "Please do nothing like this again."

"I have to."

"You do not."

Maybe, technically, she doesn't. But, this was the real world, and technicalities meany shit. "I'm the  _beacon_ , remember? My whole job is to stir things up and draw as much attention to myself as possible." Her thoughts drift to a bellyaching laugh and screaming children and she calms herself with the fantasy of hands around his throat. "To lure that  _fucker_  out. So I need to do that, alright? I'm sorry I was sloppy, this time, but I'm not gonna apologize for doing what I'm  _supposed_  to."

He looks at her like she said bait instead of beacon. She may as well have. "What you are  _supposed_  to be, is smart."

"Looker "

 _"Celestine_." There was an intensity in his gaze that makes her throat close up. Because it was not harsh—it was gentle. "Your current team, it is severely underleveled. If more strength you had, there would be less issue. But now, you are unprepared. It is too much, this danger level."

She knew. Maybe if she was stronger three weeks ago, she could have saved Alexa. But she knew she wasn't, and even then, the chances had been so remote it almost wasn't worth bothering.

Heh. Not worth bothering over—a human life. She really  _was_  a monster.

"Right now, lie low and get strong." His dark gaze bored into her. It slipped through her defenses with the masterful ease of someone who knew her, and left her very, very exposed. More exposed than she would have liked.  _"Then_  we talk stirring trouble."

Celestine was not a fan of vulnerable. She was a fan of multiple layers of emotional barbed wire, not exposed skin and a beating heart visible through her ribs. She looked away with a huff. "Whatever."

He looked like he wanted to reach out and touch her, like he wanted to clasp her shoulder or pull her into a hug, or some other form of physical comfort that would only make her cringe. But he seemed to think better of it just as his hand lifted, because he paused, fingers curling and his face flashing uncertainly, and then his hand dropped back to his side. She watched all of this and wondered—wondered what he was thinking, what was going on through his mind. It was strange how you could know someone so well, but when it came to that stoic expression of his, all his innermost thoughts were a mystery her. She wondered if he saw her the same way, an enigma that you know like the back of your hand.

Finally, he heaved a sigh, and ran a hand over his face. It was the only time in her life that she had ever seen him slouch. "In the meantime, s'il vous plaît— _do nothing reckless_."

"I make no promises."

Looker leveled her with a look of absolute exasperation. " _Celestine_."

"Kuso! Fine.  _Yes_." She crossed her arms and did her best to ignore the tug of the IV while maintaining her petulance. "What  _are_  you, my fucking father?"

Something like wry amusement curled his mouth. It made him look younger, almost. Like ten years just fell off him. "If only. Perhaps, then, you would be much less of a  _warugaki_."

"Fuck you," she snapped, but there was no force behind it. Her mouth was not curling. It was  _not._  "Why the hell did you even come down here, you weirdo? You could ve said all of this to me in a memo or some shit. Or called, like a  _normal_  person."

"I recall," he replied, rather dryly, as he made his way over to the chair at her bedside and sat down, "that you were not answering your Caster."

Chikusho. That was true. She winced. "I— You— Shut up."

"I shall not." He schooled his expression, once again became stern and serious. "I came, Celestine, because I worried over you."

Fucking hell. Even in broken Common, he was good at guilt-tripping her. She looked away, desperately fighting a rush of heat to her cheeks, and scoffed. "T-The  _hell_  you were."

Looker arched a brow. "Do you not recall? I am your legal guardian."

"Provisionally," she grumbles, as though that somehow absolves him. It didn't. There were legal documents with his signature all over them (his real name, not his codename, though he refused to divulge it to her) that made her his responsibility. And if that wasn't just dandy.

"Still, you are most important to me." It was a rare admission of something deep and tender, but he said with a straight face, which was  _completely_  unfair. "I have known you, since you were but a child."

Celestine would just like to remind everyone that feelings sucked and she would rather no one ever express anything remotely personal. What a perfect world that would be. "All the more reason to avoid me. I was a dumbass kid."

He gave a wry tilt of his head. "And now, a moody teenager."

She glared.

A small laugh left him, but he took her petulance in stride. Beneath it all, he was professional, if nothing else. "Rest," he told her, though his tone was more endearment than the command suggested it should be. He rose to his feet, making his way over to the door in long, smooth strides. "Once discharged, you must make for Lumiose. Understood?"

Rolling her eyes, she gave a dismissive wave she he probably couldn't see, with his back to her. But yeah, sure, she was headed to Lumiose anyway. Not for  _him_  granted, and not because she felt obligated to—visit him, or whatever. Even if it  _was_  nice talking to him again, after all this time... "Whatever."

His hand paused on the door handle. "And the Bureau. You must stop by."

"Do I have a choice?" she asked, even though she knew the answer.

"You do not." His tone had gone stiff again, cool and sharp and crisp. He cast her a look over his shoulder, dark eyes worn and world-weary and serious once more. It felt a little like looking in a mirror. "Be careful, Celestine."

Her throat tightened. She looked anywhere else.

The door gave a soft click as it closed behind him, and the silence reached out to crush her.

Be careful. How the fuck was she supposed to be careful? Okay, yeah, jumping into that situation probably wasn't smart but—

_I couldn't save her._

Celestine squeezed her eyes shut and tried to breathe around the breakage in her chest. But she immediately regretted it, because the darkness behind her eyelids took the shape of Viola in the maze, her voice soft and her eyes fervent, a hand on Celestine's shoulder,  _Be careful. And— bring my big sister back._

She gasped and her eyes flew open. White. Air that was too sterile because it was covering the scent of death and disease.

There was a whimper in her throat. A feeble, faltering noise that was pure weakness and she couldn't  _believe_  that such a thing came from  _her_. She brought her knees to her chest and wrapped her arms around them, buried her face in itchy fabric.

She was alone, now, and no one was there to witness all hell breaking loose.

Sobbing echoed off the walls.

* * *

**Current Team:**

_Delphi, Male Braixen (Lv 16)_  
_Docile, Takes plenty of siestas_  
_Ability: Blaze_  
_Moves: Scratch, Howl, Ember, Flame Charge_  
_Met: Vaniville ~~Aquacorde~~ Town_

 _Max, Male Pidgey (Lv 15)_  
_Naïve, Very finicky_  
_Ability: Tangled Feet_  
_Moves: Tackle, Sand Attack, Gust, Quick Attack_  
_Met: Route Two_

 _Tanner, Male Pidgey (Lv 15)_  
_Hasty, Scatters things often_  
_Ability: Tangled Feet_  
_Moves: Tackle, Sand Attack, Gust, Quick Attack_  
_Met: Route ~~Three~~ Two_

 _Tyler, Male Psyduck (Lv 15)_  
_Naughty, Proud of his power_  
_Ability: Damp_  
_Moves: Disable, Confusion, Tail Whip, Water Gun_  
_Met: ~~Route Twenty-Two~~ Santalune City_

 

 **Retired: 1**     **Dead: 0**     **Boxed: 0**

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First, let's get the translations out of the way (they're all Japanese, by the way):  
> —Kuso = A curse on the same level of fuck or shit. Translations are used interchangeably.  
> —Chikusho = Oh, shit.  
> —Warugaki = brat
> 
> Okay, so firstly I want to apologize for the monumental lack of activity. I'll be honest—I've spent the last few months writing in present tense for a while, to the point where I began to struggle with past tense. I tried several times to get back into the groove of C'est La Vie, but it felt like trying to jackhammer my way through a brick wall. Of course, that's not the only problem I've been having, but I'll get to that in a bit.
> 
> I have been wanting to write this since forever and I m so glad I finally got around to it. And I m thrilled with how it turned out. But...
> 
> I'll be honest here. Somewhere along the line, I've kind of lost my enthusiasm for this project. It's not that I don't enjoy writing it, because I do! But on Nuzforums, I've been getting a startling lack of response. The last chapter I posted was a Wham Episode and I got almost absolutely nothing in return. In the beginning, I did get some love for this story but then it started to trickle down and now there's pretty much nothing and...
> 
> It's disheartening.
> 
> I know the whole point of writing is to write for yourself but after pouring so much into this and getting almost nothing back, it's just starting to feel like more effort than it's worth. It doesn't help that the limited word count on that site has made me very cautious while writing this so I find myself unable to operate under full creativity (here, I can combine two iterrations together, but I did not have that freedom on Nuzforums). I've tried to shorten chapters but it feels choppy and forced and it bugs me to write like that. As much as I hate to say it, I just can't find the enjoyment or passion I once had for the story. Plus, it feels strange to write the characters now, like I've somehow lost touch with them or something. And it frustrates me.
> 
> Maybe, at a future date, I'll come back to this. But right now, I don't think I can move forward. I loved working on this and I am thankful that working on it has helped me improve into becoming the writer I am today. Honestly, I look at the prologue I posted, like, two years ago, and I'm cringing and banging my head against a wall. But for now, I think it's best if I just put it on hold.
> 
> So thank you to everyone who supported me in the beginning of this project, who enjoyed it over time, and has stuck with me for so long.
> 
> Sincerely yours,  
> Luna


End file.
